


My Sun and Stars

by decompository



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medieval AU, Pining, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:52:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9658214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decompository/pseuds/decompository
Summary: Asami leans down to press an open mouthed kiss to Akihito's forehead, quenching an undying hunger deep inside of him.What good is a nation, Asami wonders, if he can't have this?





	1. Two years

**Author's Note:**

> This is Game of Thrones inspired (hence the title). I was going to write a large one shot but a drabble collection seems more befitting. I had too many ideas for this AU so here u go i hope u enjoy. 
> 
> I will use specific scenes and characters (especially relationship dynamics) to write the chapters but the story will NOT reflect Game of Thrones or its plot line. 
> 
> Chapters will be snippets of their lives together and I will indicate the time since they got married.
> 
> I've made Asami younger; they are 5 years apart (Akihito is 20 and Asami 25 when they marry).
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated <3

When he rides back from battle, covered in muck and dried blood, Akihito greets him at the front gates in his sleeping gowns. It is well after midnight, the night cloaking over his castle like a thick, fur blanket and the chilly air hugs around them, a familiar reminder that summer is dying. Asami smells him before he sees him; fertile and fragrant with the flowers plucked straight from their gardens.

 

Akihito is dressed in his silk, white sleeping gown with a thick, grey cloak draped on top and it pools around his feet like a puddle of cotton. His unblemished, aristocratic skin glows next to the large fire torches that line the walls of the castle gates and he stands, grace personified, eyes transfixed only on his husband.  

 

Asami halts his horse metres from the gate and hops down quickly, regal in his armour and large, Valyrian Steel sword by his hip. As the alpha trudges forward, deprived of affection and warmth, Akihito opens his arms with a bright smile and whispers “Welcome home, my lord." 

 

Asami grunts in response and tenderly cups Akihito’s jaw before leaning down to press an open mouthed kiss to his forehead, quenching an undying thirst deep inside of him. With his mate is in his arms, tangible and real and better than any fantasy he’s had over the last two weeks, Asami finds his restraint dissolving quickly.

 

What good is a nation, he wonders, if he can’t have this?

 

Around them soldiers watch silently but neither care; this is their domain and no one else matters.

 

“Come, my lord, you must be exhausted.” Akihito suggests politely, entwining their hands together. He leads them back into the castle and Asami follows wordlessly without a second thought.

  
  
  


Once alone, Asami can’t keep his hands off him.

 

“ _Husband._ ” he mumbles between kisses, letting himself taste his mate again and again. “It’s been too long.”

 

Akihito merely pushes him away, the gentle Omega persona gone.

 

“You,” he says, stripping Asami out of his outer jacket. “Need a bath _now_. You reek of shit.” _and blood_. It’s left unsaid but the truth rings loud and clear nonetheless; they both know what stains Asami’s armour and boots brown.

 

“Join me.” Asami grins crookedly and kisses Akihito’s knuckles, gentlemanly in the most wicked way.

 

Akihito rolls his eyes but the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. “Fine.”

 

They soak in the warm tub after Asami has scrubbed and cleansed himself from the stains of battle. He smells like thick, exotic oils imported from lands too far away to remember and the hot water untangles the knots in his back and neck pleasurably. Asami sinks further into the water, unwinding.

 

Akihito leans against his chest, thighs touching and their hands are laced, resting on his soft stomach. Silence permeates around them and they sit in quiet bliss, content with the sound of their breathing. The golden rings on their fingers reflects the candlelight prettily and Akihito can’t help but stare.

 

“Did you lose many men?” Akihito ponders, unshy.

 

“No. We took them by surprise.”

 

Akihito hums, shifting against Asami to further press himself in all the corners of the other’s body.

 

Asami does not hesitate with the truth. He knows Akihito can handle the monster he keeps inside. 

 

“Does it frighten you sometimes?” Asami asks, seeking a genuine answer. “Do my actions frighten you?”

 

“No.” Akihito answers honestly. He knows who Asami is, knows how much responsibility weighs on his shoulders. He turns, water sloshing onto the tile floor noisily and Akihito cups his husband’s face in his palms. Their eyes meet, faces intimately close.

 

“You’re the Lord Paramount of Sion and the Westerlands and the most powerful man in the country. Even the King fears you. You did what you had to do. If I were in your position I would’ve done the same.”

 

And it is the truth. Emperor should be the least of his titles, Akihito thinks, Asami is meant for greatness.

 

Asami stares into his cerulean eyes and appreciation blossoms inside him. Akihito is more than a pretty omega draped on his arm for him to wear at Court; he is a man with titanium bones and iron teeth, an alpha in all but biology. Asami cannot ask for anyone better.

 

“It’s good to be back.” Asami admits softly behind the thick stone walls and in Akihito’s pleasant embrace. They are one and the same, a being split into two.

 

Akihito kisses him lovingly, making up for the days they have been apart.


	2. Day 1: Initium I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to establish the beginning tone of their relationship. It didn’t start off as love but it will. I based it off Catelyn and Ned Stark’s relationship. 
> 
> “Love didn’t just happen to us. We built it slowly, stone by stone, over the years.” - Catelyn Stark.

The chapel doors open with a deafening, announcing creak that has the audience swerving to peer at him. Akihito inhales in deeply and elongates his neck, chin pointed upwards as he slowly walks down the aisle with his father by his side. The scrutinising stares of the nobles terrifies him but the figure at the front, standing by the priest, scares him the most.

 

Adorned in countless layers of silk, Akihito shimmers under the coloured windows of the cathedral. He feels heavy like a boulder; smothered by the golden chains of jewellery and the burdening expectations from his family. 

 

His father slips his arm from underneath and lets him go. Akihito wants to shout and pull him back but his father’s eyes, hard and ambitious, keep him frozen. 

 

“It’s for the greater good.” Akihito’s recalls his mother’s words when she fastened their house cloak on his shoulders for the last time. He swallows thickly and progresses. 

 

The veil obscures his vision but Akihito can see the towering, impressive silhouette of his husband-to-be. He takes the arm offered to him and they climb the stairs together, two strangers thrown into a chasm of mystery and unfamiliarity. 

 

He’s heard tales of House Asami. Some say they were made to rule; built like sharply cut marble with their impressive, dominating golden eyes and otherworldly black hair. Even their omegas are uncharacteristically strong, his sister whispered to him the night before, all lean muscles and ferocity. 

 

“They are honourable people. They will be good to you.” she had promised him and then she left, leaving him to the quiet of his room. 

 

When his veil is lifted and they make eye contact for the first time Akihito forgets how to breathe. His sister is right; the alpha radiates power like a fragrant. The outline of his broad shoulders and fearless eyes compile the image of a strong, competent leader, exceeding all of Akihito’s expectations. 

  
  


“In the sight of our Gods, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” The priest announces, tying the white ribbon around their wrists. Although it is soft against Akihito’s skin, it feels like a shackle, and his husband’s lips are cold when they kiss.  

  
  
  
  
  


The feast is grand and glorious, as expected of their status. Countless plates of fruits and meats, local and imported, adorn the large tables that span the entire hall. Nobles and servants intermingle, the laughter of drunk alphas and chattering of Ladies fill the air as much as the candlelight. 

 

But despite the light-hearted atmosphere that surrounds him, Akihito feels like a freshly shaved sheep. 

 

He is trapped on the largest table at the very front, next to his husband who is turned away from him, discussing with another Lord. 

 

Akihito can only drink and eat but his stomach feels rock heavy, disallowing him to enjoy the food. 

 

His eyes flicker to the left, tracking the way Asami’s back stretches as he moves. His jawline, like the blade of a sword, moves rhythmically and it is the most attractive thing Akihito has ever seen. 

 

Asami turns around abruptly and catches his stare and Akihito fumbles. 

 

“Is everything alright, My Lord?” Asami mumbles intimately, eyes raking from his eyes to his lips. Akihito thinks he might choke on the grape in his mouth. 

 

“Yes, Lord Alpha.” he manages, rolling the grape to the inside of his cheek. His mother would  _ kill _ him if she saw his atrocious manners. “Everything is perfect.”

 

It’s a blatant lie. 

 

“Are you comfortable?” Asami asks again, face leaning closer than Akihito would like. His golden eyes burn like lava in the candlelight, mesmerising Akihito. He smells like a true alpha; domination and power barely tucked into the finest clothing befitting of a Lord Paramount. 

 

Asami presses closer still, until their cheeks are almost grazing and his lips are right next to Akihito’s ear. He can hear the rumble of the other’s hushed voice.

 

“We’re married now; we should be honest with each other.”

 

Akihito exhales shakily and in a swift, bold move he presses their cheeks together and mumbles: “No. Far from it.” 

 

As he draws back, he catches Asami’s wide eyes and tightly pressed lips. His face is alight with an expression Akihito can’t name, but he likes it. 

 

“Shall we go?” Asami suggests, tone polite enough to hide the spark of interest in his eyes that Akihito can see as clear as daylight. Up close, there is nothing to hide. Asami said it himself; they should be honest with each other. 

 

“But the bedding ceremony--”

 

“I am the Lord here” His Lord Alpha speaks confidently. “My word is absolute. No one will touch you” 

 

And unexpectedly, as if he were hiding it from himself, Akihito sighs heavily into the air between them. All at once the anxiety and distress that squirmed inside of him the entire day dissipates in a second, leaving him breathless and suddenly yearning for solitude. He nods gratefully and looks down at his lap, unbelieving in his luck. 

 

It isn’t uncommon for Lord Alphas to abuse their Omegas. But Asami is different. Maybe, perhaps, Akihito isn’t certain but his words are a great relief so far. 

 

“Yes, please”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Their bedroom door closes shut behind them, a gentle click that echoes loudly in the emptiness of the room. It is large, twice as spacious as Akihito’s old private chambers, with an expansive table pushed onto the wall nearest to the bed that is overfilled with fruits and drinks. 

 

Asami pours them both a cup of wine and leans against the table, the epitome of relaxed. 

 

“I want to clarify the nature of our relationship first.” He says coolly and Akihito freezes. 

 

“This is strictly impersonal. I do not love you. I do not feel any romantic feelings for you nor should you expect me to. What we are about to do--” Akihito thinks of the consummation, the king-sized bed he is standing next to and his stomach  _ sinks.  _ “--is simply an act of duty.” 

 

Asami waits a heartbeat and then continues, detached. 

 

“I will give you whatever you want. As my consort you are entitled to only the best. But be very clear, Akihito: there is no love in this.” 

 

Asami’s words are blunt but the honour behind them, the genuinity, relieves Akihito. He walks to the table and grabs his cup of wine, swallowing a large mouthful. Love, he thinks to himself, love was never part of his concerns. 

 

Akihito drinks from the cup again, more and more, until it is empty and he reaches for a refill. 

 

“I do not expect your affections, Lord Alpha.” he replies, watching the red liquid pour into the glass goblet. “But I do hope you keep your word” 

 

Asami approaches him slowly to stand behind Akihito, the heels of his boots clicking on the stone ground. He stares intently at the fine skin of Akihito’s neck, right where the bite mark will be. 

 

“Can you truly give me what I desire, My Lord?” Akihito asks and turns around, looks once into Asami’s eyes and promptly drops the goblet onto the floor. The wine stains the carpet a deep maroon but he doesn’t care; they have servants for that. 

 

“And what might that be?” 

 

Akihito licks his lips and tilts his chin upwards, inches from Asami’s face. His waxy Omegan exterior is gone.

 

“Power” 

 

Asami’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, understanding dawning on him. A delight, so raw and sudden, slams into his being and it makes him grin wolfishly. He lifts Akihito into his arms and drops him onto the giant, plush bed, watching his husband bounce before looming above him again.

 

“As much as the King’s Consort” He promises. It is sweet to Akihito’s ears and the kiss they share after tastes even better.

 

“Are you implying you’re as powerful as the King?” Akihito responds teasingly against his lips. Asami’s dexterous fingers begin to undo the lace of Akihito’s shirt quickly, no doubt with experience. 

 

“You’re a fool if you think  _ he’s _ the most powerful man.” 

 

Akihito grins sharply and licks into Asami’s mouth before they sink deeper into the blankets and mattress, ceremony completely forgotten except for the hot press of their skin. 

  
  
  
  



	3. Day 2: Initium II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They properly speak for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was incredibly hard for me to write, I don't know why. I wrote six drafts and this is what I ended up with but I'm still not satisfied with it. But if I don't post it we'll be stuck here for another 10 years hahahah I hope this is readable. 
> 
> I've planned the next 8 chapters already, so hopefully updates will be more frequent. Also, i'm currently on my mid-year break from uni so i have time to write!!! 
> 
> Unbeta'd. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated <3

Nothing could have prepared Akihito for the night after his wedding. He’d heard stories about consummation; the pain, the aches and the clinical touches that withdrew the moment the alpha did what they had to do. But Akihito never knew, in his twenty years of life, that such  _ pleasure _ could be possible either.

A wooden cock was nothing compared to whatever had turned his world upside down last night. Perhaps all the other omegas had been unlucky. Perhaps his sister was right after all; maybe Asami could be good to him one way or another.

Akihito vividly remembers the moment he bit him; the sinking of teeth that broke skin and drew blood and sealed the unbreakable bond between them. No books, lessons or lectures could do this feeling justice. 

It’s like he’d been reborn in a night and woken up as someone new. Someone with a collar around his neck in the form of a bite mark and a tag on his womb. But it felt strangely good to be marked, as if he’d found a missing part of himself, a part he never knew existed.

Especially if that part could give him exactly what he wanted.

_ As much as the King’s consort.  _

His words reverberated in Akihito’s head. Could Asami keep his word? Akihito couldn’t trust him yet, even if they were connected permanently. He had to be careful, he had to be wary. He had to think before he acted.

Alone in their large bed and swallowed by a fur blanket, Akihito can feel the aches deep in his thighs and hips. He drifts a hand between his legs to feel the stickiness there, reimagining last night in his head, staring in disbelief at his own circumstance.

A knock at the door cuts the silence and Akihito flinches out of his daze.

“Come in.” Akihito instructs and struggles to sit up, the ache blooming painfully as he twists upright.

A beta as old as Akihito enters the room dressed in deep maroon, the colour all the beta servants wear, with a thick, woven basket hanging from his forearm. His brown hair is tucked back neatly and when he sees Akihito, the young man bows.

“Good morning milord, my name is Takato. Lord Asami has sent me to assist you in your bath.” The young male informs politely. “May I escort you to the bathing room?”

Where is Asami? And what in the Seven Hells is a bathing room?

Akihito frowns in confusion and hitches the blanket further up his chest.

“Bathing room?” He questions.

“Yes, milord. Each private chamber has a room dedicated to bathing.” The beta pauses for a moment, as if waiting for further instructions, but Akihito’s confusion only deepens.

“Will it be a long walk?”

“No milord, it is in the next room.” The beta servant motions to a brown door in the corner of the room on the opposite wall, one Akihito hadn’t noticed last night. 

“Why can’t we bathe in here?” He demands. 

“The bath has already been prepared, milord, and it will dirty your chambers.”

Akihito sighs, agitated at the idea of moving whilst feeling like a battered potato, but casts the door to the bathing room a defeated look. He feels sticky and disgusting and between being clean and pained or dirty and pained, Akihito chooses the first. 

“You may escort me.”

Takato bows and begins moving instantly. The servant professionally walks briskly to the brown door, unlocks it with a heavy key before pushing it open. After, he whisks a soft, cream robe from a cushioned seat near the bed and helps Akihito slip into it. 

They hobble into the bathing room together and Akihito’s muscles scream with each movement. Parts of his body he didn’t know he used last night ached too, which was frightening. 

The bathing room they enter is circular and comfortably small, with shiny tiles as the floor and a curved, wooden seat connected to the wall. On the right to the door, a circular tub made from ceramic is mounted on a raised stone platform. It’s filled with warm water that wafts steam into the air. The room is slightly humid but perfectly warm on Akihito’s skin, and if he inhales in deeply enough, he can smell rose.

Opposite of the door is a large, arched window from ceiling to floor that overlooks the sea. Thick, maroon curtains are pulled back to reveal the endless expanse of the ocean and the pure, blue sky above. It is breathtaking and serene, beyond anything of Akihito’s expectations.

Akihito peels off the robe and Takato helps him ease into the water. When seated, it reaches his chest and the omega sighs in relaxation, tilting his head back until it rests against the rim. Takato disappears for a moment to close the door but Akihito stops him. 

“Keep it open, please.”

Being alone with a stranger is dangerous at this stage. He can’t trust anyone yet, not even servants.

Takato obeys and turns to fetch a large, wooden bowl and a bucket filled with warm water. He kneels behind him and begins pouring water through his hair, a large indent in the stone platform catching the spillage.

“What was your name again?” Akihito asks as he flexes his toes in the water, feeling his muscles unwind and body debone. The beta servant gently rinses his hair, fingers carefully carding through the strands still sticky from perfume and flaxseed hair gel.

“Takato, milord. You have beautiful hair.”

“Thank you.” Akihito replies, sighing again into the air. Everything is so different already, and he’s just woken up. Baths at home ( _ old home _ he corrects himself) consisted of a heavy wooden tub, pushed into his chamber and filled with buckets of hot water. It was nothing luxurious like this; steamy and fragrant. Even the servants are different, but Akihito supposes he doesn’t mind.

“It’s strange,” He comments offhandedly as Akihito feels the servant rub shampoo into his hair. “There weren’t bathing rooms in the East.”

“Many things are different here in the West. I hope you can accustom to it soon.” The warm water and Takato’s massaging fingers reduces Akihito to a pile of dough, the pain in his body slowly dissolving as Akihito’s eyes flutter close.

“Is it normal for alphas to leave their omegas alone on the first day of marriage?” Akihito asks and Takato smiles secretly behind him.

“Lord Asami is a very busy man. He has many things to oversee. I’m sure he will join you shortly.”

“Mmm.” Akihito mumbles and turns his head to the left to peer at the sea. His day is just beginning but his new life has already begun. Does he even want to see Asami soon? Akihito isn’t sure. But he does know the man is smart, and if he wishes to get what he wants, Akihito will need to be smarter. 

“Lord Asami has prepared your own private chambers and your belongings have been moved to them.” Takato informs as he massages Akihito’s neck and shoulders, loosening the muscles and the aches. 

“He sounds very considerate.” Akihito replies robotically, staring at the ocean and skyline and pretends to be flattered.

“He is, milord. He is a very gracious man.”

Akihito doesn’t reply. He watches the seagulls drift in and out of view, tiny white dots amidst a canvas of baby blue.

“Milord, may I wash your back?” Takato asks and Akihito nods slowly. He can’t reach it anyway, not with his predicament. He begins to curl forward when he’s stopped unexpectedly.

“There’s no need.” A deep voice so utterly familiar it sends shocks down Akihito’s spine answers, cool and collected. “You may leave.”

Akihito whirls around to see Asami leaning against the door frame, dressed in handmade, leather boots and imported wool. His black hair is slicked back and from this distance, Akihito can see him smirking.

Asami shoots Takato a quick glance and the beta servant stands up, bowing to Akihito.

“My Lords.” He gestures before promptly disappearing from the room.

Left by themselves and exposed to each other for the first time in daylight, Akihito feels his breath caught in his throat. Last night had been a blur of skin, lips and teeth, with no chance of catching glimpses at the other, only tastes. Akihito watches as Asami’s strong hand rises to unbutton his clothes.

An untamed part inside him awakens and Akihito remembers the bite mark on his neck, and realises his body is  _ yearning _ for this strange alpha. It calls for him in the quickening of Akihito’s breath, the flush that blooms in his cheeks and a different type of aching that spreads between his legs.

Powerful, confident, and now stark naked, Asami walks towards the bath.

The gold in his eyes are almost gone against the black depths of his diluted irises and Akihito bites his inner lip. He’s known this man, this complete stranger, for less than a day but he knows something deep and unbreakable had been created last night. Some things don’t need physical manifestations to prove its existence, some things merely need a quick exhale and twitching fingers to show that it’s there.

And dear Gods, it’s there, in the entire room and so thick in the air Akihito feels like he’s choking.

They’ve been staring at one another for far too long.

“How are you feeling?” Asami asks smoothly, face calm and collected.

“Um,” Akihito begins, completely forgetting about etiquettes and manners that had been  _ drilled _ into him. “I can’t walk.”

Asami smirks at that, breaking eye contact to climb the steps of stone and then into the tub itself. The water sloshes up to Akihito’s collarbones and its warmth now radiates a pure, volcanic heat.

“I’m glad I did not disappoint.”

Akihito looks to the side, trying his best not to fidget from their close proximity. They’re a leg’s length away but it feels too claustrophobic, only Akihito can’t figure out if he wants to shift away or closer.

The alpha sinks into the water and relaxes, broad shoulders rolling back as he leans his arms against the sides.

“You were  _ very _ enthusiastic.” Akihito mumbles and glances at him. An awkward silence permeates after that, so thick in the air Akihito could slice it with a knife. 

“Come here.” Asami calls suddenly, breaking the tension by extending an arm to beckon him closer. “Let me wash you.”

Akihito hesitates but Asami never relents, instead he gestures his hand higher and tilts his head to the side. It’s an open invitation, one that he’s practiced without a doubt. Not only is his new husband a legendary fighter, but he’s also a legendary charmer. How nice.  

They both know Asami won’t give up until he gets what he wants.

Slowly, Akihito crawls closer until the alpha takes his shoulders gently to turn him around and place him between his legs. The sides of their thighs are touching and Akihito curls forward, unused to the attention showered at him.

“Are you still shy? Even after last night?” The alpha comments amusedly, slowly rubbing a wash cloth over the skin of his shoulders and upper back.

“I don’t mean offence, my lord, but I hardly know you.”

“None taken.”

A silence drifts between them again.

Asami glides the cloth over his back and neck and then wraps his hands around Akihito’s waist to pull him snug against his chest. Gods, the man is strong, and the width and agility of the hands that take his arm is proof of it. In the sunlight, Akihito can see scars marring his knuckles, wrists and forearms, declarations of battles and victories.

The alpha pours lotus oil from a bottle on the stool and lathers it onto Akihito’s forearm, wrist and then palm, their fingers slipping between each other’s obscenely and the heat between Akihito’s legs intensifies. His breath quickens as Asami’s slick fingers trail across his chest and up to his clavicles.

“We’re married now…” Akihito whispers softly as a thumb swipes over his chest. “I hope we can get to know one another, or at least be friends.”

“We already have.” Asami replies against the curve of his neck. Akihito smirks and devilishly rests his head onto Asami’s shoulders, staring at the alpha. Steam drenched and glowing, Akihito looks divine, and Asami feels hunger boil inside of him.

“My lord,” The omega laughs and slots his fingers between Asami’s. “That doesn’t count.”

Asami laughs then, and the sunlight catches in his eyes. 

“Alright. You may ask me any questions, so long as I can do the same. Deal?”

Akihito’s mouth curves into a small grin and he nods, flicking his eyes towards the ceiling with his head still resting on Asami’s shoulder. It feels so natural to be close to the man despite their unfamiliarity, but he can’t move away.

“How old are you?” The omega begins and listens to the water splash as Asami twists the cloth. He feels his left arm lift and the washcloth brush under his arm and ribs. 

“25. How old are you?”

“20.” Akihito says. “It’s unusual we both married so late; most people already have children.”

Their marriage, like every other noble marriage, is a transaction. The Lord of Sion receives access to food and resources from the most bountiful lands while House Takaba receives political and financial support from the most powerful House in the kingdom. Who could possibly deny this deal?

Akihito wonders if his father ever regrets that decision.

It was made of out of desperation, his sister had told him to save his despair, necessitated during the Raging War. The West were losing troops and resources while the East were losing allies; reunion was the only option. If Lord Takaba had to lose a son, then so be it. Rather one omega son than an army and land.

_ Of course not _ , Akihito reminds himself.  _ Of course not. _

Meanwhile, Asami’s eyebrows cock, concentrating on cleaning Akihito’s stomach. It’s soft, befitting of a noble omega who spends his days sewing and writing. But his thighs are toned and stronger, possibly from dancing or whatever strenuous activities omegas are allowed to do.

“But we aren’t most people are we?” Asami asks and Akihito shoots him a confused look, tensing at the tone of an accusation.

“You’re very good at pretending. You had everyone fooled.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Akihito replies with feigned ignorance, but Asami can see right through him. It unsettles Akihito how easily Asami dismantled his façade, how easily he picked apart Akihito’s armour like it was nothing but mere paper. He thought he had fine-tuned his best weapon to perfection, but Asami’s casual remark proves otherwise.

“You wear your omega status like a cloak.”

“Does it displease you?”

“No.” Asami replies directly into his ear, bringing the washcloth into Akihito’s inner thigh. “I admire it.”

The heat inside of Akihito intensifies so rapidly his breath almost hitches. Suddenly uncomfortable, he fidgets and pushes himself away from Asami, wanting distance between them.

“Could we go inside? I’m getting dizzy.” 

“Of course.” Asami replies and stands in one quick motion, muscles flexing as he climbs out of the tub. Akihito stares at his toned arms which reach for him, plucking him almost too easily from the water and into his arms. The alpha carries him back into their room and onto the bed, still naked and dripping wet.

The curtains have been pulled back to flood the room with light and his dirty clothes on the floor are gone.

“I’ll wet the bed--”

“It needs to be cleaned regardless.” His husband replies intensely, tone flat and uncaring of the matter as he stares into Akihito’s eyes. The subtle playfulness before is gone, replaced by something colder. When he shivers, Akihito doesn’t know if it’s from the cold or those eyes.

“You said you desired power last night. Why do you value it so much?” The alpha asks and Akihito becomes rigid, caught in the moment. He quickly scrambles for an answer, knowing if he waits too long it will seem suspicious.

“The same reason you value your’s.” He replies and Asami’s eyes narrow at that, unsatisfied with the vague answer.

“Why do you want power? What use do you have for it?” 

Akihito keeps their eyes locked, not intending to back down.

“I need it to be free. I want autonomy.”

Asami’s brows lift.

“Autonomy? I’ve never met an omega like you.” He draws closer, dripping water over the blanket. The skin on his shoulders and chest glisten, and Akihito watches the water run down his biceps from the corner of his vision.

“Then perhaps you haven’t met many omegas.” Akihito rolled back his shoulders and loosens the coil in his fingers, forcing the fury away. He isn’t surprised by the condescending tone, but it hits hard nevertheless.

“What makes you think I will agree?” Asami drifts a hand and cups the back of Akihito’s neck possessively, palm rubbing against the raw mark. The other clenches his jaw noticeably but doesn’t shy away. “What makes you think I’m not like the others?” 

“Because if you were you wouldn’t admire me, you’d punish me. You wouldn’t have promised me last night.”

“I didn’t promise you anything.”

“But you did.” Akihito surges forward to place his face centimetres from Asami’s. With wet hair plastered on his forehead and gooseflesh on his arms, Akihito looks like a tempting little nymph. But he has claws and sharp teeth and a sharper mind. Their eyes meet for a long moment, breaths held as Akihito’s eyes drop to Asami’s lips first.

“My turn. Do you keep your promises, lord alpha?”

An unexpected satisfaction slithers into Asami’s mind as the question, at the  _ defiance _ and the  _ challenge _ that it poses. He likes this, Seven Gods and all the other fleeting countless Gods, he  _ doesn’t mind _ this spoilt little brat.

The abashed boy at the chapel yesterday is gone, and now sits a young man before him ready to extend his neck if it meant being the same height.

Asami draws back, not in defeat but curiosity at what Akihito will do. Will he chase after freedom? Will he beg Asami on his knees for an answer? He wants to know; he wants to find out.

Irritation blooms on Akihito’s face and as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone. He’s good, he’s very good at what he does. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Rest for today. Tomorrow I shall show you the castle and its grounds. I will be back tonight.”

Akihito clenches his jaw even tighter and inhales deeply, realising exactly what Asami wants him to do. He will not beg. He is Asami Akihito, Lord Omega of the West and he will  _ not _ act like a dog. He sits straighter, slipping on the facade effortlessly and smiles at his husband.

“Good day, My Lord.”

Asami doesn’t reply.

  
  
  


 

 

 

“Did you see Lord Akihito?” Asks Kirishima who shuffles the documents in his hands. The sun is beginning to set, and Asami's neck aches from staring at documents for hours on end. 

“I need to for the next month. You know how it is.”

Kirishima nods. Married with three children and a fourth on the way, he understands completely. Marriage amongst the nobility is overly complex with tiresome etiquettes; individuals often never meet beforehand, hence courting is done in the aftermath of the ceremonies and celebrations. With courting comes the expectations of gentle treatment, gifts and bountiful attention, all of which Asami has neither the patience or time for.

Sometimes he can still hear his mother nagging in his ear:  _ It’s for the good of the realm! Your father made an oath! I hope your honour is as big as your biceps! _

He sighs and reaches for the next document, dips his quill into the ink and continues to write. 

 


	4. Day Three: Initium III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd and finished after three glasses of wine. 
> 
> Please tell me if there are any mistakes.

Akihito feels hollow watching his family’s carriages approach the castle gates. His sister steps besides him and slots their hands together, holding his tightly and with purpose. She doesn’t say it, but Ai will miss him, has already started missing him in fact. Akihito smiles tightly back at her and says nothing more, because he understands completely. 

 

She leans in close and whispers into his ear. 

 

“Stay safe, dear brother. I will miss you tremendously.” She kisses his cheek and has to lean upwards because she is still centimetres shorter than him. Akihito wonders if she will be taller the next time they meet. 

 

“You too, Ai. Get home safely, please.” 

 

The carriages pulls up noisily, the horses jittery and huffing. The largest one stops directly in front of the castle doors and the driver opens it, waiting for his family. 

 

Akihito turns and sees his mother. Lady Saito is short, but graceful nonetheless, but even her imperial mask cannot conceal her unhappiness. He hugs her, pulling her tightly into his arms, memorising the way she smells and feels for it could be months or years before they see each other again. She kisses his cheek, and takes both his hands into her’s. Leaving one’s firstborn is never easy. 

 

“You will be missed and remembered, Akihito, never forget that.” She presses a ring into his palm made of gold and steel. “When you feel hopeless, remember where you came from. I love you.” Lady Saito kisses her son one last time and Akihito reciprocates her affection, mumbling against her shoulder, forcing his tears back. 

 

The servants begin loading the carriages with trunks of clothes, food and ale. His sister and mother climb into the carriage and stretch their necks to watch him. 

 

Akihito finally regards his father, stern and indifferent. Whether it is a mask or a genuine expression, Akihito will never know. Perhaps it is too late to find out. 

 

“I wish you a safe and swift trip, father.” Akihito says clinically. His father’s green eyes narrow slowly, but not maliciously, and then he nods in acknowledgement. Lord Takaba says nothing else and walks to the carriage, never looking back once. Something crumbles inside Akihito, but he holds his breath and wills it back together.   

 

As the carriages begin to draw away, a loneliness creeps under his skin. He stands rigidly and watches until they are nothing but blurry, brown dots in the distance, and even as they disappear, Akihito does not move. 

 

His fingers curl around the ring, painted white and pale gold like the magnolia on their family’s sigil, and then turns back to the castle. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

Akihito is pacing in their chamber, fussing with the buttons on his satin shirt. It is new, and smoothed out to perfection, but the flimsiness of the material leaves him feeling unbearably naked. Alone and unattended, Akihito hoped his new clothes could distract him for a while, but to no avail. Eastern clothing was thick and concealing despite the warm climate, but Western garments left more skin bare than Akihito liked. It only intensified his frustrations. 

 

He is about to take a cloak from the closet when a knock disrupts him. 

 

Asami enters and their eyes meet. 

 

“Good afternoon.” He greets and shuts the door behind him. Akihito straightens immediately and proceeds to take the cloak and wrap it around himself. Asami approaches him until he is a metre away, eyes fixed intently on him. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you.” 

 

“No, you didn’t. I was trying on new clothes.” 

 

Asami’s eyes trail from his neck to his clavicles and then his bare feet, and Asami realises that he’s staring. His husband looks good in pale blue, with his house colours draped over him. 

 

“Where are your hand servants?” He asks.

 

“I dismissed them. I wanted to be alone.” 

 

A few seconds pass before Asami says, “Do you still want to be alone?” 

 

Akihito’s eyes widen at the question, confronted by the turmoil inside of him. Everybody else had irritated him: the hand servants had hovered too much and they spoke too often to give him peace. He had skipped lunch, appetite completely lost from his agitation. But he wants this man to stay, and from the way Asami stares at him, waiting for his answer, the feeling could be mutual. 

 

“No, my lord. You can stay if you like.” 

 

Akihito tears his eyes away and focuses on the array of garments displayed on the bed to distract himself. He runs a hand against a silk shirt and fiddles with a pearl necklace on the side. 

 

“Do you like it? I had it brought in this morning. They’re pearls from Sion Harbour.” 

 

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” He comments. His mask is imperfect today, and Asami can see the gloom in the downturn of his mouth. In fact the entire room is filled with a despondent aura like a stench. 

 

“I know separating from your family is hard. I understand.” 

 

But Akihito knows Asami’s understanding is vastly different. He’d fought in a war at the age of 20, forced to leave his family without knowing if he would live to see them again. It is wildly, so infinitely different, but Akihito appreciates the gesture nonetheless. He offers Asami a small, strained smile. 

 

“Would you like to see the castle grounds? Perhaps it will lighten your mood.” Asami suggests lowly and steps closer. Akihito’s stomach tightens with the close proximity but it isn’t unpleasant at all, albeit a little strange.

 

Akihito inhales deeply and he can smell Asami. His scent is clearer than day, and it reminds him of apple firewood mixed with something uniquely Asami that he cannot define. He can’t explain it, but an easiness gradually slips into his mind.

 

He has no matters to attend to, and he supposes the fresh air will do him more good than harm. 

 

“Alright. Lead the way.” He replies and takes the hand offered to him without hesitation. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

They start on the fourth level which is strictly for House Asami. Besides their Great Chamber, there are five additional bedrooms, each with king sized beds and sheep wool blankets to accommodate their future children. A solar room is situated at the end of the corridor, furnished and cleaned for their private use. 

 

Next to their Great Chamber is a heavy, bolted door made entirely of steel. 

 

“This leads to the heat tower. It is only opened when you go into heat.” Asami explains in a smooth, low voice. “Only the family physician and I have the key to it.” It is only logical and safe to isolate the heat chamber in the highest tower, where Akihito can suffer out his heat undisturbed and untainted. He turns away with a sour taste in his mouth, eager to push the thought away.

 

After, Asami takes Akihito to the third floor, filled with guest bedrooms and a dining room. It is mostly vacant from his family’s departure, and all that remains are servants sweeping the floors and changing the sheets. The second floor is mostly comprised of studies where diplomatic meetings are held, but Asami never lets him see the interior. Akihito doesn’t need to wonder why. 

 

The alpha guides them to a wide balcony that extends along the side of the castle. It faces away from the sea but from this height, Akihito can see the landscape of the West with crystal clarity. Jagged mountains cut into the horizon in the distance, and the floor is blanketed by the tree tops of forests. Akihito sees the entire town below, from the smoke bellowing from chimneys to the carts and horses that ride to and from the wilderness. It looks like a colony of ants, and it contrasts starkly to the scattered farms in the East. 

 

“It’s so lively.” Akihito comments. He spots dark, looming clouds in the distance, grey and menacing. “Does it rain often in the West?”

 

The sides of their arms touch when Asami leans against the railing next to him, eyeing the clouds too. 

 

“It rains weekly. Sometimes the storms are strong enough to flood parts of town.” 

 

Akihito gapes at that, shocked at the idea of living so close to a natural disaster. In the East they had torrential rain too, but never floods. What else does the West have? Talking sheep? Living trees?  

 

Asami shows him the hound kennels where dozens of hunting dogs are kept, and then the horse stables where Akihito sees the most impressive collection of horses. They are purebred, clean and kept in perfect condition through exercise. 

 

Akihito passes by a courtyard where young, alpha men and women practice archery and knights spar with wooden swords. They bow as the pair pass, and some whisper among each other. Subconsciously, Akihito walks faster, knowing he is completely out of place with his blonde hair and blue eyes. But Asami slows him down with a subtle hand on his lower back like an anchor in the sea, and Akihito leans into it.

  
  
  
  
  


 

They reach the Great Hall an hour and a half later. It is easily twice the size of the hall back in the East, with large, wooden arches lining the ceiling. The windows are tall and large, casting bright sunlight over to the opposite wall covered in tapestries and countless candle holders. Bare of its many dining tables, the Great Hall seems infinitely larger, and at the very front, raised on a platform of stone, is a long table for the lords of the castle. 

 

Akihito stares at the immense hall, and sighs. This is his home now. This Great Hall and the others halls and  _ everything _ in this castle is his. 

 

He should feel liberated, cast away from the shackles of the East and his father’s overbearing nature but oddly, he feels even more stifled. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

At last,tThey arrive at the gardens, expansive and richly filled with plants, native and exotic. Roses, daffodils and lilacs line the walkways and on the edges of the garden, fruit trees stand tall with their bountiful produces hanging heavily. 

 

Sectioned off from the main garden by a tall, metal fence is an enclosure. Thick trees surround its perimeter and bushes dot the area; it’s an imitation of a wild landscape, a contrast to the trimmed perfection of the main garden. A small, shady veranda stands in the furthest right corner, shielded by tall trees for privacy. The white wooden structure shimmers in the sun and it is lovely, a place Akihito knows he will be returning to. 

 

“I heard you have a panther.” Akihito comments as something black and slithery flickers between the bushes, behind the fence. His heart leaps. “Is that true?” 

 

“Yes,” Asami answers and leads them forward, a hand gently taking Akihito’s wrist. “She was given to me on my eighteenth birthday. Her name is Nara.” 

 

As they draw nearer, the black fur appears in and out of sight. 

 

“Oh, I love cats.” Akihito whispers back and smiles widely, feeling lighter for the first time that day. 

 

“This one can eat you.” Asami replies and Akihito’s smile deepens into a grin. 

 

“Even better.” 

 

They draw closer to the fence before she emerges, sleek and graceful in the most enchanting manner. She is smaller than Akihito had anticipated, but just as deadly, given by the length of her fangs that peak from her mouth as she sniffs the air. 

 

“Nara.” Asami orders and she lowers her head, eyes darting intelligently between them. Akihito shuffles closer to the alpha’s side and the other huffs softly, an arm curling around his waist in a reassuring manner. “She won’t hurt you. You have my scent, she knows we’re mated.” 

 

And just as he says, the panther approaches and sniffs between the space in the fence, starting from Akihito’s ankles, knees and then his face. He laughs when she slumps onto the ground like an overgrown lazy housecat, relaxed and unconcerned. 

 

“She’s lovely.” Akihito exclaims and sinks to his knees, leaning closer but not daring to touch the creature. He curls his fingers around the bars of the fence, utterly fixated with Nara. 

 

Asami continues to watch him. 

 

His husband is boyishly handsome, with baby fat still soft on his cheeks and unmarred hands. His golden hair sparkles and his smile is radiant, but it’s the unadulterated wonder and joy in his eyes that captures Asami. He hasn’t seen anyone smile like that in a long time. His eyes travel to Akihito’s jawline and eyelashes, noticing his high cheekbones and full lips. He had kissed those, had tasted them and everything else he had to offer. He wants to do it again. 

 

“Akihito.” He mumbles and bends low, looming in silently. 

 

“Yes, my lord?” Akihito tilts his face upwards and their noses bump abruptly. He watches Asami’s eyes, noticing the way they dilute again and again, and this close the scent of firewood is overpowering. The easiness before gives way to a yearning, innate and unbeatable. 

 

Akihito kisses him first, eyes closed and breathless as Asami pushes him down, flush onto the grass. Nara grumbles and disappears behind the bushes, but neither pay her heed. 

 

Anyone from the castle could see them, but appearance and dignity be damned. 

 

Asami presses his nose against Akihito’s jugular and inhales in rose, blood boiling as his lips brush against his omega’s skin. He shifts them until Asami’s backside faces the castle, shielding Akihito against prying eyes. They’re millimetres apart, Akihito’s leg slotted between Asami’s own but nothing has ever felt so right. 

 

Their kisses are close lipped, Akihito still tentative in the attention showered upon him but he blossoms when Asami’s hand smooths down the front of his pants and cups him. They break away and Akihito sighs against his husband’s lips, feeling their cupid’s bow touch. 

 

“It gets easier,” Asami mumbles. “You’ll get used to it.” 

 

It isn’t a reassurance, but a cold hard fact. Asami is a truthful man who does not hide behind veneers of false sincerity. It’s true; Akihito will get used to it, but it isn’t a promise that he will grow to  _ like  _ it. 

 

It dawns on Akihito that his husband still hasn’t answered his question from yesterday. It seems odd for the Lord of the West to give a personalised tour himself rather than a hand servant. His actions are confusing. 

 

Akihito had fallen asleep before Asami could return last night, and when he had awoken he was already gone. They haven’t discussed anything else yet, and Akihito can count the numbers of conversations they’ve had with one hand. 

 

His low mood has risen to acceptance by now, and he supposes within the next few days he will grow accustomed to the West and all of its complexities. He will have to learn Western etiquettes, grow used to the clothing and cuisine and learn the numerous towns and castles in its territory and their reigning family.  Akihito will need to do his marital duties, and if he has time, indulge in a few hobbies. 

 

But for now, in this moment, lying on soil beside his alpha husband, the future seems far off. All he knows is the gold in his husband’s eyes reminds Akihito of the bangles in his mother’s jewellery box. 

 

“I suppose the castle will have plenty of gossip tonight,” Akihito murmurs and he watches Asami’s eyebrow twitch in confusion. “Their alpha and omega lords, shagging in the garden like a pair of teenagers.” 

 

Asami grins devilishly, eyes crinkling slightly as his thumb presses against Akihito’s hipbone.

 

“Why don’t we give them a show?” 

 

Akihito makes a scandalised expression, mouth open agape and he’s about to make a clever remark when his stomach grumbles loudly. It’s utterly humiliating, and his face flushes a deep red. 

 

“I haven’t had lunch.” He confesses abashedly and Asami’s smile deepens. He lifts himself off the ground and extends a hand, guiding his husband back into their castle. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

Dinner is served with numerous platters of roasted meats, cured fish and chilled ale. The dining hall is empty except for them and a line of male beta servants standing to the side, ready for an order. The meat is too spicy for Akihito, he must admit, but the chilled ale and fluffy white bread smothered in smooth butter makes him full in no time. 

 

After dinner, Asami takes Akihito to the solar room. The walls are filled with books on foreign and native mythology, antique books on plays and poems and in one corner, geography and science. Akihito scours over the shelf like a hungry little caterpillar, stretching his neck high to read the book titles. 

 

On the opposite wall, a large fireplace crackles softly, filling the room with extra, soft ambient light. The chairs draped in fur are perfect for reading, and in the corner is a desk equipped with a quill and ink. 

 

“Your father left you messenger pigeons. You may write as often as you like.” Asami says and it shocks Akihito enough for him to turn around. 

 

“My father?” Akihito repeats and Asami nods. 

 

“We spoke before he left.” 

 

It takes a moment for it to sink in. His father, the same man who bartered him away and left without a second regard, had left something tangible to connect himself back home. It was almost surreal, and Akihito isn’t sure he can believe it. Lord Takaba is a practical man. Surely the messenger pigeons are for emergencies. 

 

“Oh.” Is all Akihito says. 

 

Asami walks to a chair by the fireplace and sits comfortably, staring at the flames. 

 

“What did you speak about?” Akihito murmurs a few beats later and Asami barely hears him. 

 

“Diplomacy. Alliances. Trade and politics.” The  _ things you wouldn’t understand _ goes unsaid but Akihito hears it with crystal clarity. Annoyance slithers under his skin, and the muted agitation earlier resurfaces with a newfound intensity. 

 

Suddenly turned off from conversing with his husband, Akihito turns back to the books and pretends to be occupied by them. 

 

“Akihito.” Asami calls, breaking the silence. “Come here.” 

 

Akihito whirls around and glares at him. “Why?” He asks rawly. 

 

“Because I want to kiss you.” 

 

The omega grits his teeth, internal fire matching the flames reflected in his eyes. 

 

“I’m not a dog.” He spits and Asami has the audacity to cock an eyebrow at him. 

 

No, he isn’t. Which means he won’t beg Asami for freedom either, and if he has to drag his feet through mud and blood to get it himself, he will. Asami doesn’t need to be told, he can see it perfectly well. 

 

“You are my husband. As such, can I not kiss you?” 

 

“If you want to kiss me, ask like a normal human being.” Akihito says flusteredly and then realises how awfully rude it sounded. He turns his back to Asami again and mumbles “Please.” 

 

He doesn’t hear Asami approach him from behind and honestly, how is it  _ possible _ for a man that large to move so silently? 

 

Asami’s hands rest on Akihito’s hips and embarrassingly, he yelps. His alpha presses against his back, tall and dominating and Akihito would be lying if he said he  _ completely  _ hated it. 

 

Biology can be so cruel and rewarding. 

 

“May I please fuck you? Right now?” 

 

Asami’s mouth is so close to his ear and Akihito can hear every inhale and exhale. His breath is warm against his skin and Akihito spine tingles. Asami is nothing but solid muscle, a slab of marble that could pin him to the ground and mess him up from top to bottom. 

 

The anger diminishes completely when Asami rolls his hips, tongue darting out to wet the space behind Akihito’s ear and his eyes flutter close. His heart beats so frantically he can feel it in his fingertips, and Akihito cannot remember when he says “Yes.” because Asami is suddenly pulling them down. 

 

The rug they fall into is soft and luxurious, perfect for a good fuck and certainly dreadful for washing away stains. Asami removes Akihito’s shirt and pants swiftly, flinging them into the corner like crumpled paper. 

 

Akihito bends like gold under Asami’s palms that smooth down his bare stomach, then his hips and inner thighs to spread him wide. 

 

It is hardly appropriate, fucking in a solar room three days after meeting one another but they have an entire floor to themselves. And what better way to familiarise each other than through sex? 

 

“Oh  _ Gods,”  _ Akihito cries when Asami bites his thighs, nipping at his naval and hipbones before flattening his tongue against Akihito’s cock. 

 

“Calling the gods during sex is hardly appropriate--” 

 

“Well what else am I supposed to say goddamnit!” 

 

Akihito throws his head back and he arches deeply, feeling his cock hit the back of Asami’s throat. He must have done this countless times because the alpha is good, so fucking perfect at sucking his cock that Akihito almost comes on the spot. 

 

Asami takes his mouth off with a wet pop and licks his lips, taking in the malleable body under him that is so ready and submissive for him. He’s salivating like a savage, and Asami bends Akihito almost in half to eat him.

 

He’s suddenly glad they have an entire floor to themselves, because Akihito’s moans are loud and seductive and the epitome of enchanting. The omega is still sensitive to his touches, body still partially virginal after penetration and Asami can’t wait to take it again, and again, and again. 

 

Asami slowly slips a finger in, watching Akihito’s face the entire time. His body glistens under the fire light, glowing from sweat and he makes him look ethereal. The want that grips him is almost irrational. 

 

He pumps a second finger in, and then a third, and by the time he has four in Akihito is crying into his wrist in desperation. 

 

“Please,” He gasps, astonishing himself and Asami at the sheer want in his voice. He’s never been like this, Seven Hells he didn’t even  _ know  _ he could be like this. 

 

When Asami finally slides into him, full to the hilt and unbearably thick, Akihito has tears flowing from his eyes. Asami wipes them away with warm fingers. 

 

“Are you hurt?” 

 

“No, no, don’t stop.” 

 

The thrusts start slow and shallow, Asami reeling back the need to  _ take  _ and  _ rut _ because if he hurts Akihito now, it will take months before Akihito lets him get close again. The omega digs his nails into Asami’s back and grunts, whines when he lifts his hips and fucks back against him. 

 

Their rhythms begin to match, a messy pattern that has Akihito’s eyes rolling back when Asami’s cock sweeps over the bundle of nerves inside of him, electrifying his spine and soul. The pleasure drowns everything out; the embarrassment, the anger, the loneliness and anxiety at being left behind and Asami’s strong arm wrapped around his waist grounds him. 

 

Akihito is so close he can see stars behind his lids popping in and out of existence. Asami leans down to suckle at a nipple and Akihito cries out, dragging his nails down the alpha’s back to leave bright, red trails behind. This is ecstatic; this is mind blowing; this is pure fucking bliss. 

 

Akihito comes with a long, drawn out moan, mouth open and eyes shut as cum spurts onto his stomach and chest. He hasn’t orgasmed that hard since, well,  _ ever,  _ and the sheer force of it leaves him reeling. 

 

Asami follows after by mere seconds, grinding deep and hard into him and they both feel his knot swell. The sensation of being full of cum makes Akihito slightly hard again, and Asami is suddenly a fucking angel because he bends down to lick at the other nipple, thumb flicking across the head of Akihito’s cock until he orgasms a second time. 

 

It leaves him completely boneless and sated, as if Asami had unravelled him down to his very stitchings. Akihito feels open and raw but not vulnerable, no. The yearning throughout the day is finally quenched, and Akihito lets his hand rest on Asami’s back. 

 

Asami slumps on top of him, heaving for breath as Akihito trembles from his second orgasm. The knot is tight in him, and they’re both careful not to move too much as to jostle it. 

 

“Is this what we’re going to do for the rest of our lives?” Akihito half laughs and half complains, breathing against Asami’s neck. 

 

“What better way to spend it.” The alpha replies and licks his shoulder. 

 

An idea slips into his mind, a result of the concoction of pride and the post coital high. 

 

Akihito leans upwards without warning and latches his teeth onto the side of Asami’s neck, at a spot that is bare for the world to see. He sinks his teeth in and feels the skin break, blood dribbling into his mouth. Asami grunts at the pain and his cock spurts more cum, toes curling hard until it subsides. 

 

“There,” Akihito sighs as he lies back down again, grinning boyishly as he sees the astonished expression alight on his alpha’s face. His eyes are sharp and mischievous, and the flames by the firewood are no match. 

 

“Now you have one too.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are getting easier to write and i'm having a lot more fun!! I can't wait to update it further this series is so enjoyable for me. 
> 
> But, alas, semester 2 has begun and this term is packed :(( so i'm sorry if the wait will be longer than intended, but I will try my best. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!!!


	5. Week 3: Initium IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry this took seven months to update. I will explain why in the notes below.

Asami is right; it does get easier. 

 

Akihito is immediately assigned an advisor, a middle aged beta called Khan from House Aoki who teaches him finances and management of the castle staff. He spends his free time indulging in art, buying charcoal from the North, oil paints and brushes from the South, and has his work from the East brought to Sion. 

 

Life is not fulfilling, but it could be worse Akihito supposes, reminds himself to count his blessings and thank the Seven Gods each night. When he prays before bed, by the open window that overlooks the sea, Akihito clasps his hands together and whispers to the Seven Stars. 

 

_ Thank you for giving me a husband who leaves me alone.  _

 

They have fallen into an unspoken agreement, an alliance within an alliance. Daytimes are spent separated; Akihito in his corner of the castle and Asami in his, and at night they reunite and enjoy the only pleasures they have in common. They do not speak, they do not seek, and most important of all, they do not yearn. 

 

Asami comes to bed every night and disappears in the morning like smoke at a chapel; wafting in and out of existence as if he were a hazy dream. Akihito can count the amount of conversations they’ve had on one hand and the amount of times they’ve fucked on several walls. And by the time the second week passes, Akihito knows no more about Asami than when he first arrived. 

 

But what he knows, he knows  _ thoroughly.  _

 

Asami likes to push him into the bed, face down and ass up, fucks into him like the world depended on it and leaves unabashed bruises on his skin. They blossom like lavenders in the spring, dotting his stomach and thighs and has Akihito gasping for breath. Asami injects into him a pleasure unbeknownst to him, deprived of him for all of his life until now, and Akihito reciprocates as best as he can. 

 

When the sun rises and the West comes alive, Asami leaves, and Akihito sleeps with his back towards him. 

  
  
  
  
  


Lunch is a mixture of lamb and beef pies, with lemon and honey cakes for dessert. Akihito has already finished his first pitcher of water but the tangy sweetness of the lemon cakes leaves him thirsty again. The empty pitcher knocks over when he reaches for it, bounces off the table and falls to the ground with an ear-ringing shrill. 

 

“Bring me another,” He requests and bends to pick it up. 

 

“Bring two.” Asami’s voice cuts through the room and he magically appears with the regality of an eagle. His eyes are trained on his husband, a stare that is neutral to everyone else but simmering underneath. Akihito looks at him from his crouched position, surprised. 

 

“I didn’t know you drank water,” Akihito remarks mischievously, three weeks of intimacy leaving him more relaxed around the edges. “I’ve only seen you drink wine.” 

 

“Are you calling me an alcoholic?” Asami asks in return, grinning and sits himself opposite of his husband. 

 

“Not calling, simply stating.” 

 

Asami grins at his husband’s boyish humour, so starkly different to the crude jokes cracked at army camps. The handservant comes back and pours them both a generous cup, before standing at the edge of the room, waiting for an order. 

 

Asami looks at him and nods, and then they’re alone. 

 

“How have you been?” Akihito asks out of courtesy, smiles faintly at Asami who returns the same expression. Akihito doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man’s true expressions; even in the dark whilst on top of him the night shields his face. He’s mysterious in all kinds of manners, but Akihito isn’t interested. He isn’t at all. 

 

“Well. How have you been? I heard you’ve settled in quite well.” Asami replies and cuts himself some meat and vegetables, breaking their eye contact. “Lady Khan tells me you’re very serious about your responsibilities.” 

 

“Not as seriously as you. You’re always working day and night, what exactly has you so preoccupied?” 

 

“I have meetings.” Asami replies clinically, intentionally vague and Akihito dislikes it immensely. “Nothing exciting at all, really.” 

 

“Hmm,” Akihito replies, and remains silent after that. The atmosphere isn’t awkward, but it isn’t comfortable, and Akihito supposes that this feeling is the very definition of their relationship. They don’t have much in common; all Akihito knows about Asami is what he sees. 

 

He is extremely disciplined, rising before the Sun to train with his troops and young alpha knights, and then works intensely until night. He is also extremely fit; all hard muscles, sculpted biceps and scars on his forearms and chest, testament to his years in the military. Asami hates sweets, never wears perfume and from the way he eats, loves wine. These are only a few miniscule details Akihito has noticed; but nothing reveals the man himself. It’s just all decorations to an unknown cake. 

 

“Speaking of meetings, Lady Hakone is hosting a banquet in five days to celebrate the birth of an heir. We are expected to attend.” Asami mentions casually and sips his water, eyes trained on Akihito again. It’s been happening more frequently; the stares that could peel back his collar and lick at his skin. 

 

“You will need new clothes. The tailor will come tomorrow morning for a fitting.” 

 

Akihito wonders if they can fit any more items in his wardrobes; since his arrival he’s been gifted new jewelleries and at least a dozen different outfits. 

 

“That is hardly necessary, I already have enough.” He replies. 

 

“I insist.” 

 

Akihito’s lips purse, gripping his fork tighter. 

 

“I insist that you stop insisting. It’s true; you’ve already given me a hundred garments and three boxes of jewellery I’ll most likely never use.” He dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin, eyeing the lamb on his plate with hunger but chewing whilst talking is unacceptable, so Akihito waits for his husband to reply. 

 

“There will be nobles from all over the West, some will be seeing you for the first time. You must leave a good impression, don’t you think?” 

 

“And I can and will without the new clothes.” Akihito suppresses an eye roll.

 

“Do it for me.” Asami suggests and places his knife and fork down, eyes concentrated straight into Akihito’s own and the omega freezes. They’re utterly captivating, another detail Akihito has learnt in the past two weeks: his alpha is  _ very  _ good at convincing. 

 

“If not for yourself, then for me.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The tailor arrives at ten o’clock the next day with his own entourage, equipment and three large trunks. They are filled with different cuts of laces, fabrics and fake jewellery set on display, an overwhelming myriad of colours and patterns that promises a long, grueling fitting. 

 

The tailor, a skinny middle aged beta man, and his staff quietly unfold 3 large connected mirrors, bent to view the body from three different angles. 

 

Asami sits on a plush chair behind Akihito, wordless but significant, his presence ever known despite saying nothing. He’s comfortable, cigar in his mouth with his legs crossed, and a plate of fruits lies waiting by his side. From his perspective,  he can enjoy Akihito from all angles. Especially from behind. 

 

Akihito steps onto the stool, becoming the tallest person in the room. He’s done tailorings hundreds of time but this is different; he’s on display and Akihito can  _ feel  _ it. This tailoring isn’t for  _ his  _ liking, it is for his husband’s. 

 

“Please remove your coat, my lord,” The tailor requests and Akihito obliges. Asami, halfway through his cigar and with half lidded eyes, watches him. Their eyes meet momentarily in the mirror before Akihito flickers away, undoing the rest of his buttons and slipping off the coat completely. 

 

All that is left is a loose, transparent undergarment. It is comfortably soft and breathable, allowing it to be perfectly transparent for Asami to see his husband’s back too. He gazes at the muscles beneath the fabric, the sharpness of his shoulders and the curves leading to his hips. Asami inhales, blowing out smoke. 

 

“What colour shall we start with?” The tailor asks. 

 

“Silver,” Akihito replies. 

 

“Red,” Asami interrupts. 

 

A tense second passes as the tailor’s gaze flickers between them with uncertainty. The room’s air suddenly cools by ten degrees. 

 

“Perhaps both?” The tailor suggests professionally, with the intention of keeping his head very much intact. 

 

Akihito glares at Asami in the mirror. 

  
  
  
  
  


_ Five days later.  _

  
  
  
  
  


They embark to Hakone Fortress in the morning and the journey takes five hours. Akihito spends the time gazing out the carriage window, admiring the countryside of the West. The grounds aren’t as fertile or lush as the East, but still bountiful enough to harbour hundreds of farms. 

 

They ride between rocky mountains and through small towns, attracting attention from the common people who peer from their window sills with fascination. Akihito wishes he could greet them all, but Asami had advised against it. 

 

His husband rides at the front of their entourage, accompanied by their guards who surround the carriage at all times. It’s incredibly boring sitting unaccompanied for five hours, and after a nap and several snacks, they finally arrive at Hakone Fortress. 

 

Asami and he are allocated a luxurious room to rest and freshen up before the feast, and Akihito falls into the plush bed with an exclamation of relief. 

 

“Whoever invented the bed deserves a  _ lordship _ ,” He sighs and buries into the soft blankets. 

 

Asami takes off his outer coat and walks to the door, seemingly unaffected by hours of listless riding. Akihito thinks he must be part wood. 

 

“I must speak to Lady Hakone, I won’t be long,” He says and Akihito frowns, turning to face him. 

 

“We’ve just arrived. Surely you can speak later.” 

 

Asami comes nearer, leans a knee onto the bed to bring their faces closer. Akihito almost shies away, but his muscles are far too sore, and he lets Asami kiss his forehead quickly. 

 

“I will see you before the feast.” He promises without reason, and then he’s gone, leaving Akihito alone again. 

  
  
  
  
  


An hour later, Asami enters their room to see handservants hovering over Akihito, pinning his hair and tightening the laces on his back. The servants turn, quickly bowing, then continue to help Akihito. 

 

“Oh, you’re back. I’m almost finished,” Akihito says, doing the buttons on his sleeves then dismisses the servants. 

 

He stands and turns, illuminated by the sunset light, and Asami loses his breath. 

 

His husband is dressed in a pale golden tunic, laced with silver-threading and elaborate patterns. It is translucent from his shoulders to wrist, revealing an enticing silhouette of his arms, and the tunic collar dips into a v to the middle of his chest, partially baring his clavicles and natural sun-kissed skin. His tight, black pants hug the curves of his thighs and knees and they lead to simple brown, leather boots. 

 

Akihito blinks and  _ oh,  _ there is kohl smudged along his lash line and it darkens his eyebrows, lashes curled so perfectly they flutter when he blinks. A soft pink dusts his cheeks and his lips are painted an equally flattering shade of red. It’s subtle, but combines so effortlessly to make Akihito radiate like the diamonds on his necklace. 

 

Akihito is a walking dream. 

 

“I wasn’t sure about the make up,” He says hesitantly and swallows thickly with uncharacteristic nervousness. “I don’t wear it often. What do you think?” 

 

Asami’s tongue presses against the roof of his mouth as he eyes his husband continuously, indulgently. 

 

“Beautiful.” He says lowly. 

 

Akihito’s eyes widen, feeling heat pool in his stomach when Asami’s eyes drift from his mouth to his chest and feet. He clears his throat and approaches, slips his arm around Asami’s, and guides them out the door. 

 

“We’ll be fashionably late at this rate. Let’s go.” 

 

They walk in sync, shoulders and biceps brushing constantly but there is no tension, only a comfortable ease. 

 

“I’ve miscalculated. If I eat too much my belly will show.” Akihito whispers scandalously to Asami, who tilts his head to the side to accommodate the disparity in height. Asami flicks his eyes up and down Akihito’s form approvingly, and has the smallest of grins on his face. 

 

“Are you laughing at me?” Akihito exclaims softly. 

 

“You’ve calculated perfectly. Tight clothing suits you.” 

 

_ Oh.  _

 

They near the entrance to the dining hall, and from this distance Akihito can see the brightly lit room with dozens of waiters and nobles dressed in elaborate clothes. It’s slightly intimidating meeting the lords and ladies of the West, but with Asami by his side Akihito feels lighter and confident. But he won’t admit that aloud. 

 

They stop at the doorway, between two guards and the announcer turns to the room. 

 

“The Lords Paramount of the West, Lord Asami Ryuichi and Lord Akihito!” 

 

All eyes immediately travel in their direction and Akihito sucks in a deep breath, points his chin out gracefully and doesn’t blink. The entire room stands up in a unanimous wave of commotion, nobles and handservants all staring at them both with reverement, respect and on some faces, fascination. Akihito feels bare like a mannequin but he is a puppet; he will smile and laugh and be gracious in the eyes of his subjects. 

 

Asami guides him to a long table elevated at the front, where the Ladies of Hakone are already seated besides them. They take their places on the remaining seats, Akihito on the outer corner and Asami directly next to the Lady Alpha, and the entire room subsequently sits after them. 

 

Within seconds the lively noises arise, waiters serving drinks, handservants bringing decadent plates of food into the hall, and nobles murmuring between them. Except the attention has been shifted directly onto Akihito, who feels the weight of almost every stare from almost every person in this vast room. 

 

Besides him, Asami converses with Lady Hakone, who has a stone face and brown hair pulled tightly into a bun. She has the stoic features of a serious leader, and she bows her head when they make eye contact. 

 

Akihito dines quietly for a better part of twenty minutes, enduring the glances directed his way. He expects to be approached by many, but not before he’s had his fill. Asami turns to him, then leans in so close Akihito is sure half the hall notices at once. 

 

“You must excuse me. I have to speak with Lord Loronz.” Asami leans in closer, almost directly over his ear. A firm hand squeezes his shoulder, the hold lingering for a moment longer. “If you need me, I’ll be close.” 

 

“I’ll be alright.” He answers back. Asami weaves through the crowds, attracting the nobles’ attention like moths to a flame. He demands respect wherever he goes, whenever he pleases, no matter who he is surrounded by, and even his backside is outlined with power. 

 

The Lady Omega of House Hakone approaches his chair, tentatively standing with a friendly smile. 

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord,” She says and bows. “My name is Matsura. May I sit?” She gestures to Asami’s seat and Akihito obliges, turning politely in her direction. She is young, Akihito guesses she is only a few years older than him, and her hair and eyes are so dark they look black. 

 

“I hope you are comfortable with your accommodations.” 

 

“Oh it’s lovely,” Akihito replies courteously. “A much needed comfort after the ride here.” 

 

Matsura smile deepens with satisfaction. 

 

“I admit we don’t live in the most convenient location. When I first came here I didn’t like it at all.” 

 

“You’re not from the West?” 

 

“No, my lord, I’m a Northerner,” It all makes sense. Northerners have distinct features to them; pitch black hair, sharp noses and an acclimation to cold weather. The chilli night has no effect on Matsura, who wears a blue sleeveless dress and hair pinned up, exposing her neck entirely. 

 

“Do you dance my lord?” Lady Matsura asks and Akihito can see her high spirit through her smile. Giving birth to an heir and  _ surviving  _ is the highest honour for an omega, and Lady Matsura takes it to heart.

 

“Not very well, a better observer than dancer.” 

 

“That’s alright. Shall I introduce you to the other omegas? We’ve all been expecting you.” Lady Matsura suggests and Akihito agrees, anticipating the question. He’d known the moment he walked through that door he’d be the most popular subject in the room, and clearly he isn’t wrong. And is a feast really a feast without drunken alphas and gossiping nobles? 

 

Lady Matsura takes him through the crowd, and suddenly all eyes are on him, and if Asami was a flame before then Akihito is an entire bloody volcano. 

 

“Oh, look, it’s him.”

 

“Why, he’s so small.” 

 

“Look at his eyes!” 

 

“Of course, he’s part royalty!” 

 

She leads him to a flock of omegas near the dance floor. They bow first before advancing, surrounding Akihito in a circle of dresses and jewellery and curious eyes. 

 

“Good evening my lord.” They chant in unison. 

 

They’re all giggly and dressed to the heavens, hairs plaided and clipped into elaborate hairstyles that Akihito has never seen before. Some of their dresses are open and airy, sleeves cut short enough to reveal the majority of their arms and collarbones. The male omegas are no different; with collars unbuttoned until a strip of skin shimmers in the night and their eyes are lined heavily with kohl. They’re all beautiful and glamorous, nothing like the omegas in the East. 

 

“Good evening,” Akihito replies graciously, and wears his best smile. 

  
  
  
  
  


“He’s blended in right away,” Kirishima remarks in a far corner of the dining hall, nestling a wine cup in one hand and a cigar in the other. Besides him, Asami watches Akihito with bright eyes but he stays silent. Unreadable. 

 

“He’s very good.” Is all he says. 

 

Kirishima turns towards him, faces away from the crowds and hides his mouth subtly behind Asami’s silhouette. 

 

“Lord Angera is absent, but his son is here.” 

 

He returns back to his normal position, taking a swift inhale of his cigar. Asami drinks his wine, taking in the information. 

 

“Keep a close eye on him.” Asami orders.

  
  
  
  
  
  


An hour later, after endless conversations with faceless nobles, Akihito is exhausted. When the Ladies of Hakone address the entire hall and present their heir, he almost sighs with relief. It diverts the attention away from him, and he takes a moment to pour himself another cup of wine. 

 

The babe is only a month old, with thick, brown hair and the loveliest cheeks Akihito has ever seen. She is an alpha, and already clings to her omega mother with determination. 

 

“May the Gods watch over her!” Lady Hakone exclaims and the entire room mimics her, raised voices and clinking of cups and cheers for the continuation of one of the most powerful houses in the West. The baby will grow to inherit the rich, fertile lands of the southern West, and gain control over the second largest port in the country. This tiny, little baby, whose hair is nothing but puffs of clouds and milky cheeks, already has power entwined in her future. 

 

Akihito remembers his children will be the same. His eyes automatically track across the room and collides with Asami, who is already staring back at him. His mouth runs dry and averts his eyes, pretending it never happened. 

  
  
  
  
  


After, dessert is served: thick, custard puddings and fermented plums, an array of fruits cut into intricate shapes and sizes laid out on all the table. Akihito returns to his seat and spends the next half an hour by himself, sipping wine, eating fruits and watching the crowd beneath him. 

 

The music changes tempo, and Akihito sees couples gather on the dancing floor, hand in hand. 

 

A young man approaches him, bowing before speaking. 

 

“My name is Jun of House Angera. May I have this dance with you?” 

 

He is a tall adolescent, almost as tall as Asami, with a strong nose and high cheekbones. He is charm personified, slick and clever in the way he speaks. Akihito is intrigued, and he could refuse him to dine on more pudding, but he supposes dancing with a young, alpha man would be a fresh difference for the night. 

 

“You may.” 

  
  
  
  
  


“How old are you?” Akihito asks as they twirl around the floor, hands clasped together.  

 

“Seventeen, Your Grace.” 

 

“Your Grace? I’m hardly royalty.” Akihito exclaims but he’s smiling. Lord Jun lifts him into the air effortlessly and then down again, guiding Akihito back into the music smoothly. “I’m only a Lord.” 

 

“My apologies. Your beauty and grace seem fit for a royal.” 

 

Akihito holds back a laugh, and twirls under Jun’s arm, putting distance between them. He’s more amused than flattered, and his small grin gives Jun a sign to continue. 

 

“The West is made a brighter place by your presence.” 

 

He is the perfect alpha glorified in books and myths; mentally and physically strong, conventionally attractive, and heroically chivalrous. 

 

But it’s all false; constructed to woo and weave into the heart of a man he’s misunderstood. Akihito is not easy like that, but it’d be too boring to tell Jun to hush up and let the other nobles saddle up to him. At least this one has good breath. 

 

“That’s very sweet of you.” Is all Akihito says. Jun opens his mouth to continue but he stops abruptly, eyes widening. 

 

“Lord Jun.” Asami announces and steps right next to them, a little too close to be deemed professional and smiles coldly. 

 

Jun lets go of Akihito hands immediately to bow deeply, addressing Asami as is his due. The smile remains on Asami’s face, pinned down and one dimensional. There is no amusement in his eyes, no life like the way he looks at Akihito. 

 

“May I have my husband back?” 

 

“Certainly, my lord.” 

 

Jun backs away slowly, still eyeing Akihito before he bows again and leaves. It’s awfully strange, and if Jun were any older Akihito would feel uncomfortable. But he is a child and children like to play, and for a while Akihito humoured him. 

 

“Have I lost your affections already?” Asami asks with feigned hurt, taking Akihito gently by the wrist. The music is still loud and echoing in the hall, the dance floor alive with movement and vibrations. 

 

It feels different pressed against Asami, feeling their palms brush and his strong, firm hands on Akihito’s hips as he lifts him up. The charm and slickness of Jun pales in comparison to Asami’s; he’s all intense stares and hushed whispers. No sweet words, just tantalising touches. Occasional glances. A brush of the lips on his cheek. 

 

“It must be earned before it is lost.” Akihito quips back and finds himself laughing. No longer pretending, but laughing wholeheartedly. 

 

Asami spins them around and leads Akihito with him, precise and in tune with the music and Akihito follows without fuss. They’re enjoying this, together. 

 

“That boy called me ‘Your Grace’, I almost lost it.” Akihito murmurs between them, loud enough for his alpha to hear above the violins and voices. Asami’s eyes crinkle in amusement and he lifts Akihito up. 

 

“You  _ are  _ the King’s nephew, you have royal blood.” 

 

“Careful now,” Akihito turns and his back is pressed against Asami’s chest, his husband’s arms tightly wound around him as they step to the music. 

 

“If you judged royalty based on King’s blood then half the bloody kingdoms would be royal.” 

 

Asami’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the jab of the King’s  _ adventures _ , and then for a rare moment, he bursts out chuckling. Deep, unabashed and full of mirth. He has smile lines around his mouth, and Akihito is transfixed on them. 

 

“Have you been drinking?” Asami asks. 

 

“Only two cups,” Akihito begins. Then stops, then starts again. “Perhaps a few.” 

 

“Naughty omega.”

 

Lightning splits the sky momentarily, followed by thunder that vibrates through the fortress walls. Akihito looks at Asami alarmingly, feeling the gusts of cold wind slip under his thin tunic. 

 

“We should stay the night,” Asami says and curls an arm around his husband’s waist protectively, shielding him from the cold. “Travelling during a storm is dangerous. I’m sure Lady Hakone won’t mind.” 

 

Akihito nods in agreement, shuffling closer for warmth. He watches the handservants close the balcony doors and windows, and the candles that were extinguished are relit promptly. 

 

They eventually move back to their table where Akihito requests for another bowl of pudding and Asami requests for another pitcher of wine and they drink together. It’s been a long, arduous night. Akihito’s mouth is exhausted from speaking. He drinks more, gradually growing languid and casual around the edges. 

 

Akihito shifts and leans against the chair, facing his mate. 

 

“What wine is this? It’s absolutely delicious.” 

 

“It’s Ethean wine, I’ll have some brought to Sion if you’d like.” Asami places a warm hand on Akihito’s thigh and squeezes it. Akihito doesn’t mind, in fact he likes it, wants Asami to touch him more. Not sexually but intimately, like a hand on his neck or chin on his shoulder. More right now would be good, very good. 

 

“Mmm I’d like that.” 

 

Akihito rests a hand on top of Asami’s. 

 

“Your hands are so hot. Like a fireplace. Hot and rough.” He pats Asami’s hand, like a child patting the paw of a cat. “I like them.” 

 

Asami leans forward, wanting to catch each phrase with clarity. He turns his hand up and presses their palms together, hidden under the table top from any prying eyes. He can’t stop himself; from the moment Akihito entered his life Asami has done many irrational things. This is one of them. 

 

“What else do you like?” He asks, edging his husband forward. The background noise blurs away, leaving a crisp concentration on Akihito’s voice. 

 

The omega thinks of a moment, pondering with pursed lips and then he says, “I don’t know. I don’t know much about you at all.” 

 

Asami freezes, eyes widening, and then he wonders how he should proceed. Should he keep asking questions? Watching his husband unravel slowly in front of him? Or should he shut up, turn around and tell Akihito to go to bed? 

 

The night is still young and Asami has had a few cups of wine himself, and out of pure curiosity (yes, just curiosity), he says, “Then ask me. Anything you like, simply ask me.” 

 

“Anything?” His husband mimics, lips turning up with naughty implications. 

 

“Yes, anything.” 

 

Akihito blinks slowly, reaching for his cup to drain the final sips of wine. His mouth is bitter and tangy, and the world seems to dissolve into a swirl of colour and noises. 

 

“Then may I retire for the night?” Akihito asks and Asami shrinks back, completely taken aback at the change in tone. He’d thought there was something profound ready to happen, but it was only the alcohol. If he feels disappointment, he does not show it. 

 

“Of course. I’ll accompany you back.” 

 

“Oh, nonsense.” Akihito objects and stands up, brushing crumbs off his pants and steps away from the table. He places firm hands on Asami’s shoulders, slightly woozy from the alcohol and sugar. His cheeks are exceptionally pink, lips shining from when he licked them. 

 

“You go do your alpha duties. I shall see you later.” 

 

Without thinking, he bends down and presses a fat, sloppy kiss on Asami’s forehead, and then drifts away into the crowd. Asami watches him, feels the imprint of his lips burn into his skin pleasantly. Asami follows him.

  
  
  
  
  


He walks in whilst Akihito is undressing. He’s uncoordinated and his hair is a mess from where he had ripped out the clips and pins. The tunic is laid scattered the floor and near the door are a pair of boots messily flung about. He’s shirtless except for the black pants. 

 

“You didn’t have to come back.” Akihito slurs. 

 

It’s clear he isn’t sober; his gracefulness has melted away into sluggishness. Akihito slumps onto the seat in front of the vanity, desperately tugging at a clip in his hair and winces painfully. 

 

“I wanted to. I’ve had enough conversations for tonight.” Asami answers him and steps forward, gently pries Akihito’s hands away from his hair to undo the clips himself. They’re tangled and messy, but not impossible, and within a minute Asami has collected all of them. 

 

“I don’t understand how anyone can withstand these awful hairdos,” Akihito cries out dramatically. He ruffles the golden strands carelessly, then reaches for the basin of water and towel on the side. “They took forever to make.” 

 

Asami remains still and wordless, fingers carding through Akihito’s golden hair, untangling all the knots he encounters. He observes his husband wipe away the kohl on his eyes, eyebrows and red lips. 

 

“Red lips suit you.” 

 

“What?” 

 

Their eye meet through Akihito’s vanity mirror. Asami’s tongue freezes, completely speechless. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, it wasn’t even meant to be a coherent thought. 

 

“Nothing.” 

 

It’s frightening intimate for them, so Asami moves to his trunk of clothing to change and wash himself. 

 

Akihito stripping himself of pants without a second thought and flings them over a chair. He prowls the room, searching for his nightgown to no avail, completely ignoring the fact that he is utterly naked. 

 

“Here,” Asami slips on his own sleeping shirt then pulls Akihito’s from an open trunk and unfolds it. “Lift your arms up.” 

 

“I can dress myself--” 

 

“Let me do it for you.” 

 

Reluctantly, Akihito obeys. Asami’s knuckles brush against Akihito’s ribs as they pull the nightshirt over him, making goosebumps rise over his skin. Asami watches him shiver in delight, a sense of satisfaction gripping him. 

 

“Let me take care of you.” 

 

The hands sneak from Akihito’s ribs to his face, gently guiding Akihito to a soft kiss, wet and suggestive. He tastes of oranges and the sweet, Ethean wine, and when he sighs into Asami’s mouth the alpha feels it more than he hears. Asami waits a heartbeat before continuing, pushing his tongue deeper into his mate’s mouth, letting the young man tilt his head up for more. 

 

Akihito wraps his arms around Asami’s neck and opens his mouth, letting his husband do all the work, leaning back and sowing all the pleasures bestowed on him. It feels good being taken care of, to be handled by his alpha. 

 

Asami cups him through the fabric of his nightshirt and Akihito jerks away, surprised. 

 

“Not tonight, please. I’m very tired.” 

 

Asami retracts his hands, smoothing them down Akihito’s shoulders with understanding. He’s quite exhausted himself, but his half hard cock will have to endure for the night. He wants Akihito to desire him wholeheartedly, without a shred of doubt. 

 

“Alright,” He whispers lowly and takes his omega’s hands in his, kissing each knuckle leisurely. He guides them to the bed and they sink into the mattress together, Asami cocooning them both with the blanket. 

 

“You smell so good,” Akihito whispers, nestling his face into the crook of Asami’s neck and closes his eyes. It’s a solid warmth, a constant in the night, an anchor in the ocean of darkness. Asami closes his eyes and lets their shared warmth lull him to sleep. 

 

When the sun rises and the West comes alive, Asami stays, and Akihito sleeps with an arm draped over his torso without a care in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I'd like to thank you all for 800+ kudos!! I'm immensely grateful for everything, especially your patience. 
> 
> Last semester was very difficult for me and I struggled soso much. My depression came back too, which wasn't very helpful for my situation and I ended up neglecting this series for five months. I also took a summer course so the time I thought I had was cut very short but the good news is I've recently finished and I now have about two weeks of complete free time (before sem 1 starts again). 
> 
> I'm very unhappy with this chapter and I've rewritten it about eight times. I was tempted to rewrite all 5157 words again but I realised I'd never update this series if I kept doing this. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I will try my best to improve the upcoming chapters and I hope the best for you all. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 xoxo


	6. Day 28: Initium V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple morning, a simpler question, and the complicated aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the unknown*  
> behold !  
> an update !  
> again, i'm sorry i took so long but lots happened and i'd like to tell you all about it in the end notes!!  
> also I changed the titles. Initium is 'start' in latin.

The Ethean wine, though sweet and delightful on the tongue and mind, proves to be tragic for mornings. Akihito nurses a dull throb in his head, simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, and the sun streaming through the curtains they’d forgotten to close last night pounds against his eye sockets. He groans wearily, brushing unkempt hair from his mouth and turns in the other direction. This early in the morning, his limbs are clumsy and his mind an evaporated mess, and Akihito hits a solid wall of warmth with his right hand hard enough to jolt himself awake. 

 

He raises his head, eyes squinting through the bright light and focuses on a mass of muscle next to him. Akihito recognises that face, and shoulders, and the unimpressed eyes staring at him. They’re equally tired, if not even more exhausted, and it’s only when the stranger blinks that reality hits Akihito square in the face. 

 

This is the first time he’s woken beside his husband. Or rather, this is the first time  _ his  _ husband has woken beside  _ him.  _

 

It’s awfully strange to be married for three weeks, and only waking to one another in a guest room far from home. 

 

“Oh, sorry. Did I--”, Akihito licks his lips, realises how dry and stale his mouth is. Perhaps talking isn’t the best choice right now. Akihito shrinks back, putting cold space between them. Asami’s face pinches, as if in disapproval. 

 

“Did I hurt you?”

 

Asami shakes his head sleepily. 

 

“Nothing substantial. Only my right eye. Nothing important I’d have to use.” 

 

Akihito winces, but feels himself eventually grinning. 

 

This Asami is new to him, freshly unearthed; sarcastic and sleep rumpled against the warm bed sheets. His black hair, normally gelled back to glossy perfection, is unruly and sticks in all directions rivalling a map. 

 

“I’m sorry. Shall I kiss it better?” Akihito teases and watches his husband smile, unguarded and softened by the dawn light. 

 

“Wash your mouth first.”

 

“ _ Hey,”  _ Akihito complains but laughs anyway, settling down into the bed again to stare at Asami. The alpha does the same, turning towards his husband until they’re facing each other. A silence blankets them but it’s a contrast to the stillness at the dinner table or at midnight back home, when Asami slips into bed quickly and stays on his side of the bed. Now, it’s a cue of exploration, a chance for Akihito to take in his husband’s nuances. The headache is still an unpleasant pulse in his skull, but Akihito pays no mind, not when Asami is gazing at him with equal intensity.

 

“Did I say anything weird last night?” Akihito begins, wanting to continue this peacefulness. Whatever unserious jabs he inflicts on his husband, the other reciprocates ten fold, and Akihito likes it. At least he has this in their marriage; a shared (albeit crude) sense of humour. 

 

“Let’s see,” Asami begins and Akihito buzzes under the blanket, waiting for the answer. “You said I smell nice, you complimented my hands, and said it was like, what was it?”

 

“Oh  _ Gods  _ I remember--”

 

“A fireplace. And you also called the King a  _ whore--” _

 

Akihito bursts into laughter, voice breaking into a shrill as he exclaims, “I did not!” 

 

Asami chuckles deeply, low in his chest and his eyes glow so brilliantly in the sunlight Akihito falters. 

 

“Well I wasn’t the one who became jealous,” Akihito retaliates but his claim is based on thin ice. He knows it, but Akihito continues anyway, because he wants to see what else he can pull from his stone-made husband. A grin? A burst of true, unadulterated laughter? Or an impassive stare?

 

“Jealous? When?” Asami shifts and rests his head on his forearm. The collar of his nightshirt dips low to reveal a strong collarbone and skin and Akihito tries his best not to glance at it. 

 

“Oh, so you just  _ happened _ to be there when I was dancing with that handsome young man?” 

 

“Yes, of course,” Asami retorts and moves closer. Akihito notices, but doesn’t stop him. If he wants, Asami could move even closer, and Akihito wouldn’t protest. 

 

“Impeccable timing, don’t you think?”

 

Akihito laughs into the pillow and nods. “Truly, yes.” 

 

They bask in the stillness of the early morning; separated from duties momentarily, and accompanied by no one else but each other. 

 

Like an unspoken agreement, through only the barest flickers of eyes, Asami moves closer. Akihito almost shies away, but a greedier part of him roots him to the spot, and unconsciously his eyes flicker to Asami’s lips. They’re slightly chapped, but it doesn’t matter, not when Akihito knows what they’re capable of. 

 

The distance closes between them and Akihito flutters his eyes closed, anticipating. 

 

Asami kisses his forehead firmly, a closed lip smack of the lips against skin and then he’s gone. 

 

Cold air rushes in the sheets and Akihito shivers, caught off guard by his husband’s withdrawal. 

 

“As much as I’d like to continue lying there,” Asami admits as he strips himself. Completely naked and unashamed, Asami briskly selects clothes hung in the wardrobe. The lines of his back are smooth, the breadth of his shoulders almost intimidating, and Akihito inhales deeply. He wants, so badly, and Akihito would take if it weren’t for the distance pushed between them. 

 

“We must ride back as soon as possible. Last night’s storm means the journey home will be longer and tedious.” 

 

Akihito watches Asami quietly, noticing the unintentional rhythm in his movements. He cleans himself thoroughly, and changes clothes the way he organises his belongings; utilitarian and efficient. There is no room for contemplation, never the same pondering Akihito puts into his clothing. He chooses a chainmail byrney, black pants, and a blood-red waistcoat brandished with House Asami’s sigil on the breast, and smooths out the crinkles in the front. It’s simply a ride home, there isn’t need for full armour. 

 

Asami walks to the vanity Akihito used last night and slicks back his hair, running his fingers into the strands until his fringe is tamed back. He’s polished like marble once he’s done, grace personified as he slips on black boots and walks to Akihito’s side. 

 

A part of Akihito wishes he could have the unveiled Asami for a little longer, something to remember when he feels lonely. 

 

He catches himself mid-thought, struck still by the foreign feeling of  _ want _ . Except it’s different this time, an elevation of the desire he usually feels and this hasn’t happened before, but maybe it already has, but perhaps--

 

“Akihito? Are you alright?” Asami asks, looking almost apologetic. 

 

He sits on the edge of the bed and the mattress dips. Akihito struggles to remain composed. 

 

“Had too much wine. You should’ve stopped me,” Akihito jokes. The want inside him blooms again when Asami smiles, lopsided and mischievous. Gods, he’s too handsome for this earthly realm, and Akihito has half a mind to extend a hand and beckon him closer. But that would be too forward. For now, he remains still, gives Asami his complete attention. 

 

“I can’t join you for breakfast, I’m sorry.” The alpha reaches and takes his hand, pressing a gentle kiss against Akihito’s knuckles. It could be a promise, or an apology, or an act recited in Asami’s cunning mind. Akihito wouldn’t know, but he wishes he could know, but for now Akihito simply receives whatever he gets. 

 

“I’ll send someone to help you pack. I’ll see you when we ride off.”

 

“Alright,” Akihito says and misses the warmth of his husband as soon as it pulls back. “I’ll see you later.” 

  
  
  
  
  


They ride out an hour and a half later, after Akihito enjoyed a quick breakfast with Lady Matsura and ensured all their belongings were packed. Lady Matsura possessed a sense of sincerity rarely found amongst the noble class, and from a simple glance, Akihito knew she was kind to the bone. 

 

“Is your babe sleeping?” Akihito asked. 

 

“I’m afraid so,” Matsura smiled, “Actually, I’m  _ thankful  _ so. They sleep so deeply when they do, but when they don’t it’s utter chaos.” 

 

They laughed in unison, sharing small talk on children and babies and, uncomfortably so, pregnancy. 

 

“You always hear tales about bearing children. My omega father always told me I’d have terrible tantrums; it runs in the family. But I was completely fine, until the day of birth,” Her eyes dimmed, an uncommon transparency that spoke of a sheltered childhood. 

 

“He never told me how much it could… change you.” Akihito could read everything on her face; conflict, pain, and reluctance.

 

“You’ve survived something tremendously difficult,” Akihito quickly said, placed a hand on top of her’s in an act more sincere than performative. “It means you’re strong, and the Gods heard our prayers.” 

 

Lady Matsura looked up, her expression soothed into one less sour, but just as unhappy. Uncertainty coagulated in Akihito’s stomach and a revelation pulsed to life in his mind: this could be his future. 

  
  
  
  
  


Lady Matsura bid farewell at the gates, briefly pulling Akihito into a hug. She is so young, so inexperienced, and it’s a mercy she lives behind mountains instead of the Capital. They would eat her alive. 

 

“I hope I can speak to you again soon. I had a lovely time,” She says, and Akihito agrees because Gods, she seems to need it. 

 

“Of course. Write to me, I’ll always reply.” 

 

Who else would reply? Akihito wondered if Matsura has many friends, who she talked to on a daily basis and confided in. Was she happy, or at least  _ content _ , amongst these mountains or does she wish for something more? 

 

In that moment, Asami appears behind him, a solid hand pressing against his lower back. The gesture pulls Akihito out of his thoughts, refocusing on the large hand span on his back. 

 

“It’s time to leave. Thank you for your hospitality.” 

 

Lady Hakone stands next to her wife, stone faced and hair pulled back into another ridiculously tight bun, and nods. She is a hand span away from her wife and with one glance, Akihito understands. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The road is filled with murky puddles and cracking earth where mud had dried, and the carriage ride is bumpy and uncomfortable. Nestled side by side, Asami looks out of the window listlessly. 

 

“I thought you’d be riding out front.” Akihito comments. 

 

“I’m quite tired this morning. I’ll ride out later.” Asami replies shortly. 

 

“Hm.” 

 

Asami waits a heartbeat, then says, “I see you’ve already gained a friend.” 

 

Akihito’s brow twitches. 

 

“I wouldn’t call her a friend.” 

 

“She likes physical contact, then.” 

 

“I suppose so,” Akihito retorts, “She seems quite lonely. I wouldn’t mind being her friend.” 

 

Akihito can hardly see Asami’s expression, if he has one at all. It’s the little mysteries, the subtle details in the way he moves and speaks, that edges Akihito on. Everything Asami uses, says, and does has a purpose; so what purpose does this conversation serve? 

 

“Are  _ you _ lonely?” 

 

Akihito’s eyes widen, paralysed with disbelief.

 

“What?” 

 

Asami finally turns to him, completely serious but open. Curious. 

 

“Do you feel lonely in Sion?” 

 

Akihito never thought too much about it. There was always housework to do, checklists to go over, and Khan to accompany him. They aren’t  _ friends,  _ but the conversations hold enough substance to keep him occupied. And there were his paintings too; charcoal and canvases never lied to you. 

 

“Not really. I have Khan, and the handservants, and Nara.” 

 

Asami quirks an eyebrows up, lips already deepening into a lop sided grin.

 

“You talk to the four legged creature in our garden? That’s the first sign of madness, Akihito.” 

 

Akihito nudges his husband with a shoulder half heartedly. 

 

“But if you do feel lonely, tell me.” says Asami, laughter completely gone in his voice. He’s looking at Akihito like  _ that  _ again, the same expression he had when they woke up next to each other. 

 

“Really?” Akihito asks. His eyes flicker to Asami’s mouth, watches the tip of his tongue dip out to moisten his bottom lip. 

 

A warm hand places itself on his knee, a sign that could be read as reassurance. 

 

“I’ll give you handmaidens to accompany you, or another advisor. Perhaps more animals? Maybe a frog will do--” 

 

“Oh shut up!” Akihito laughs and smacks his husband’s shoulder again, chuckling into a hand to hide his smile. Asami catches his eyes, and the light hearted glimmer in them dissolves as rapidly as they surfaced. 

 

“But whatever you need, simply say the word. I’ll give it to you.” 

 

Akihito wants to quip back with a joke, something to make Asami grin once more, but it doesn’t feel right. Instead he shakes his head, half serious, half not, and says “You’re so very odd.” 

 

“How so?” Asami asks, genuinely baffled. People use many words to describe him, but odd has never been on the list, and Asami never imagined it ever would be. Akihito is unpredictable, and the strange young man brought to him three weeks ago is slowly dissolving to reveal layers of complexity. 

 

He too, is a little odd, a little different. 

 

“You… you’re a walking contradiction.” Akihito says animatedly, breaking eye contact and his hands move in the air as if it could conjure up the right explanation. His brow furrows in frustration, unable to explain himself. 

 

“You appear so distant and seem so untouchable but you’re simultaneously so…” Akihito blinks rapidly, “So observant.” 

 

Asami’s eyes widen, closely watching his husband’s eyes dart back and forth on the ceiling and it’s utterly captivating how blue they are in the dimness of the carriage. Like little gemstones, glimmering in whatever light it can catch. 

 

Akihito is right too, and here lies another layer to him: a quiet intelligence buried beneath omegan etiquette, hushed by the societal rules that keep omegas silent. 

 

Asami doesn’t have to do anything. He wasn’t obligated to follow Akihito last night, isn’t obligated to be here, to offer even a glance, and yet. 

 

And yet, he does. 

 

It was only sex, in the beginning. A mutual give and take they both took part in, but flowers blossom even between poison ivy, and here they are, stuck in a limbo they both brought upon. 

 

“I think you care more than you show.” Akihito softly whispers, daring, almost timidly, to look Asami in the eyes and hope he is right. The proposition hangs in the air for no one to judge, but it feels like a trial. “I… I think you care a lot more than you show.” 

 

“Do I?” Asami whispers back, but not in disapproval. It’s slightly unnerving how Akihito can read him so easily, but that would point back to Asami, because signs don’t manifest in thin air. They’re given, provided, no matter how unintentional. 

 

“What if I told you you were wrong?” The alpha asks in deflection, because this is starting to hit too close to home. Akihito has already crawled into the space of his arms and mind, and he reels at the idea of sharing so much with one person. He’s lived almost his entire life covered up; only a handful of people know him intimately, and most of them are dead. 

 

Akihito stares back, stunned by the rebuttal, and steadily he answers, “Then I would tell you that  _ you’re _ wrong.” 

 

It chills Asami to the bone. Akihito’s eyes are so, so large. 

 

“You’re very intuitive.” He opts for complete avoidance, and looks away. Akihito’s expression sours immediately. Asami had avoided Akihito’s questions in the beginning too, and to happen again proves they’re still back in square one. Asami doesn’t trust him. Or rather, doesn’t have  _ faith _ in him. 

 

Akihito remembers Lady Matsura, and the distance between her and her wife, and the anxiety comes flooding back. Akihito doesn’t think he can live like that. 

 

“See? You’re being odd again,” Akihito edges forward, anger building in him. “I...” 

 

He catches himself, fumbling with the heavy exasperation within him. 

 

_ One moment you kiss me so softly, and the next you’re oceans away _ . 

 

Akihito needs to know if they’re evolving, if this relationships of pull and push will go beyond. But Asami has already retracted, and the warm hand on his knee leaves a cold imprint even through his clothing. The moment is gone, and just like that the conversation dissipates like vapour, and Akihito feels his stomach sink. 

 

_ I want to know more about you.  _

  
  
  
  
  


He can’t remember when he fell asleep, but Akihito awakes to a sudden jerk of the carriage that sends him almost toppling onto the floor. He’s alone, and lying on a soft pillow, but Akihito doesn’t remember putting it there. 

 

Groggily, he sits up and stretches his neck before pulling back the window curtain. The sharp, dark grey silhouettes of the mountains have transitioned to endless blue sky, smeared with dark grey clouds in the distance. They seem to be moving towards them, a warning of more storms ahead. 

 

The knights around them are unaffected by it, seemingly concentrating on moving forward with their lord. 

 

“Ser,” Akihito asks and the closest knight regards him, moving closer to a respectable distance. 

 

“Lord Akihito.” 

 

“How far are we from Sion?” Akihito asks, feeling the growl of hunger develop in his stomach. Despite the snacks brought along, he craves a real hearty meal, and a warm bed away from the limited space of the cushions in the carriage. 

 

“An hour’s ride away, my lord. Is everything alright?” The knight asks. 

 

“Yes, everything’s alright--” 

 

The carriage stops with an abrupt jerk. The knight besides him immediately reaches for his sword, tensing in anticipation. Akihito shies from the window immediately, waiting for a noise. A deep, unsettling silence weighs above them all. 

 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Akihito whispers. 

 

“Our path home has been compromised. Please stay away from the window.” The knight replies and Akihito gets the feeling that’s the end of their conversation. The knight’s response could mean a plethora of things, but it all points to the same conclusion: danger is imminent. 

 

Out front, Asami stills, taking in the decimated town. They’ve only arrived at the town gates, but Asami can already see dozens of bloodied bodies and charred houses. The smell of burning wood is thick in the air, and there are multiple horse tracks scarring the earth. This wasn’t a large town, two hundred people at the very most, but it’s still bone-chilling to see so many dead. 

 

The only way to proceed is through the town as there are no other pathways large enough to fit a carriage. Entering might be a risk, but backing off to find an alternative route will prove no less safe, not with the threat of attackers looming above them. 

 

Asami turns slowly, eyeing each knight, and they all nod in a silent agreement. 

 

The only way is forward.

 

Asami turns to Suoh, gesturing from his eyes to the rooves, and the man nods. Asami is only wearing a chain mail byrnie beneath his shirts and mail chausses under his pants, but nothing substantial to protect him from a sword wound. 

 

The town is devastated. There are bodies littering the walkways, left to lay the way they were slaughtered, some so grotesquely Asami feels a slither of anger well inside him. They were innocent common people, and this isn’t war; this is crime at its greediest. 

 

The shops have been raided, the houses burnt with lingering smoke and there is an eerie quiet that pervades the streets. They reach the centre of the town, a circular space where a statue of the First God once stood proudly. Now, all that remains is a beheaded lump of rock,  insignificant and sorrowful in the face of the town’s raiding. 

 

Asami’s eyes narrow, an instinctive sense of dread pooling in his stomach. He unsheathes his sword and carries on, trusting his knights to do the same. It comes with experience, the feeling of an enemy close by, and Asami glances at the reflection in his sword without reasoning. 

 

An arrow poised behind a curtain on top of a bakery shines brightly on the metal, and in one breath Asami shouts, 

 

“Move!” 

 

They lurch forward and Akihito is thrown back by the force of the carriage changing speeds, confused by the shouts and rapid  _ thump thump thump  _ of the running horses. The walkways of the town are narrow, and their guards are forced to split in front and behind the carriage, with absolutely nothing to protect the sides. 

 

An arrow flies through the holes of the window, landing right next to Akihito’s head and he understands immediately. 

 

Ducking down low, Akihito braces himself, hands flying over his head and body curled tightly. 

 

There are more shouts outside, and the carriage makes a sharp turn to the left, flinging Akihito to the side and he hits his hips painfully against the seat. 

 

Outside, Asami had watched the attackers pour out from the ruins of the town, smothered in smoke and ash and bloodshed bright in their eyes. They have no sigil, no honour or pride, only greed flashing in their teeth. They’re all on barefoot and Asami slices through them with ease. They race through the streets and out of the town centre when Asami hears the carriage falter behind him. 

 

He quickly spares it a glance, realising an axe had flung out and torn a wheel in half. Asami’s blood curdles, dread solidifying in him as the carriage tips to one side and becomes immovable. Their guards are all preoccupied, and from the corner of his eyes Asami sees Suoh crush a man’s head against a brick wall. 

 

Akihito is all alone. 

 

The sound of hooves hitting the earth sends Asami whirling, and he sees three figures on horses ride towards them. They have the same ruthlessness in their faces, weapons wielded in utter carelessness with the sole purpose of taking and ending. 

 

“Suoh!” Asami yells and doesn’t bother to look, doesn’t bother to wait for a response, only gathers himself up to fight. “Look after him! Don’t let him out of your sight!” 

 

The three bandits are forced to split when two knights meet them, and Asami aims for the one in the middle. The sword in his hand is heavy and the weight is grounding, and nothing but a strange ease comes when he twists his body to avoid an attack, then plunges his sword into the other man’s guts. For good measure, Asami turns his horse and bounds for the man again, this time driving the sword down his back, severing the spine and his chances of survival. 

 

These are amateurs, barely trained without a commander, and they fall easily. But the problem isn’t their talent, it’s their numbers. Another dozen bandits appear from the forest, howling and wielding extraordinary weapons. A woman has a double edged hammer and swings it haphazardly, while another young man bears a sleek sword foreign to the Seven Kingdoms. 

 

Asami has seen its design before, but only in report scrolls about countries separated months away. 

 

The real question suddenly shifts from the identity of these bandits to something more unsettling. 

 

How do lowborn, untrained bandits have access to the weapons Asami trades?

 

Asami pushes the question and suspicions into the back of his head as he charges forward, emptying his focus on nothing but survival. 

 

Back in the carriage, Akihito listens to the wild clangs of metal against metal and the wails of the wounded. He quivers, fear gripping him like a vice around his throat. He should do something, run and get help but  _ how?  _ Akihito has no weapon, and he can’t fight even if given the chance, and the chances of survival are thin to almost impossible out in the forests. 

 

The West is still wild and unclear to him, and the thought of death is suddenly too real. He could die here, at any moment, at any given time. Someone could wrench those doors open and he’d be helpless. 

 

Flailing around, Akihito sees a knife he used to cut an apple and grips it tightly in both hands. It isn’t the sharpest, but even a blunt knife in the eye can do significant damage. 

 

Backed into the wall of the carriage, away from the window, Akihito hears a sob. 

 

It’s a contrast to the sounds outside. It’s punctuated by loss and fear, so puny and small it sounds like a wounded animal. 

 

_ It’s a child,  _ Akihito realises and his heart drops.  _ There’s a child somewhere.  _

 

The logical side to him tells him to stay put. The logical side urges safety before recklessness, that this child could be an enemy, that risking his life isn’t worth it. But the sobs grow louder, and in the midst of the crying Akihito hears  _ mama.  _ All doubts die immediately. 

 

A rumble cracks in the sky once, and then rain begins to pour relentlessly. It grows heavier by the second, so intense it becomes thick as a fog and drowns out the noises of battle. Akihito takes it as a chance. 

 

He creeps against the window and sneaks a look at the surroundings, realises the carriage is wedged between a long brick wall and a set of shops with houses above. The child could be anywhere, but if Akihito could hear them then they must be close. 

 

He takes two deep breaths, glances to ensure no one is nearby, and runs out.

 

Akihito ducks into the nearest abandoned house and creeps low, attempting to be unseen, and then he crawls away. He searches the first floor, passing by corpses but finds no child. There is a wall between the wooden houses, as if someone had knocked their way through, and Akihito slips through it. 

 

Water runs into the houses, flooding the floors and turning dirt into slush and mud. It cakes his elbows and knees as Akihito crawls through, high with adrenaline as the second house turns out empty. He begins to doubt himself, the worry of disillusionment eating at him when another cry cuts through the air. 

 

“ _ Mama!”  _

 

Akihito jerks towards the direction behind him. The town is small and impoverished, and the wooden structures have easily been devastated with little to no difficulty. It isn’t hard to spot the broken horse stable behind the houses, tucked away from the fight but surrounded by nothing. It makes it difficult to slip into it without being spotted, but the heavy rain provides a blanket of distraction Akihito isn’t willing to give up. 

 

He braces himself, and then bolts towards the horse stable. 

 

It’s larger than the three houses he’d searched combined but a section of it has collapsed in on itself. The horses are gone, leaving nothing but moist hay and blood stains on the wooden pillars. In the far corner, under the rubble, a woman lies motionless. Besides her is a boy, five at the most, drenched in rain and face contorted in horrifying disbelief. 

 

“Mama!” He screams again. Akihito’s heart wrenches, and he approaches the boy. The child freezes, spotting the stranger, eyes constricting to pure panic as he shuffles away into the corner with his hands outstretched. 

 

“Go away!” He shrieks, “Go away!!” 

 

Akihito winces, falling to his knees and splays his free hand in a gesture of peace. 

 

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you, please--” He kneels two metres from the boy, eyes pleading and Akihito raises his palm upwards. “Please believe me. We’re here to rescue you.” 

 

Akihito presses a finger to his mouth, softly speaking. “If you keep shouting the bad guys will find us.” 

 

The boy quietens, panic subsiding slowly until all that’s left is sorrow. Fat tears well in his eyes and his face scrunches up, body shaking as he cries. 

 

“Mama, my mama, mama--” 

 

“I know, I’m so sorry, I know, come here,” Akihito bundles the boy into his arms, before stripping his outer coat to wrap around the child. He’s shivering from the rain, and Akihito tucks him under his chin, placing his own body between the corpse and the child. 

 

“It’s okay, brave knights are here to save you, it’ll be alright.” 

 

The world is cruel. Akihito knows this, he is not naive, but  _ this _ is something entirely different. The boy in his arms has lost everything. He has nowhere left to go. Akihito presses his face into the boy’s hair and grieves. For what? For everything. 

 

They stay like that for seconds, the boy softly hiccuping into his shoulder until his entire body goes limp. Akihito shifts on his knees, arms protective around this small human, prepared to fight for his life if need be. 

 

In the distance, a figure appears. It limps towards the stable, a silhouette cut out from the backdrop of rain. The figure is unfamiliar, dressed unlike a knight or Asami and Akihito immediately assumes the worst. 

 

He pushes the boy away. 

 

“Get behind that haystack,  _ now,  _ and don’t come out until I say so.” 

 

The child follows without a word, scrambling behind the nearest haystack and curling into a tight ball. Akihito swallows thickly and reaches for the knife he had set aside, gripping it in his hand. He would hide too, but there is no space big enough to hide both of them. 

 

A man slumps onto a wooden pillar and rests heavily against it. There is a cut right above his brow, blood blinding that eye and he cups a large puncture on the side of his abdomen. He’s twice Akihito’s size, with a gnarly face and mercilessness even with a mortal wound. 

 

Akihito swallows and straightens himself. He can fight, he can hold off the injured man until he bleeds out. He could find a rock nearby if the knife fails him, or blind his other eye; he can find a solution to this problem. He has to, he  _ needs to.  _

 

The man smiles crookedly, but it’s inappropriate in a way that makes Akihito’s stomach sick. He knows that look all too well. 

 

The bandit sneers wordlessly, lips curling back to reveal bloody teeth, and shuffles towards Akihito, who takes one step back. 

 

Words aren’t needed; the glimmer in his eyes screams enough murderous intent to fuel Akihito’s nightmares for weeks. 

 

The stranger gradually closes the distance between them, until Akihito is almost backed up against a wall. If Akihito moves suddenly, the man might lunge, but being trapped isn’t an option either. Slowly, Akihito moves to the side, away from the haystack hiding the boy. He can’t spare him a glance, lest the bandit puts it all together and follows his gaze. 

 

“If you touch me, you will regret it.” Akihito warns but his voice trembles at the edges, the threat is half hearted at best. There is a chance no one will find him until everything is over, and by then two things can occur: he will either be alive or dead.

 

“Oohh, no I won’t,” the man comments and follows him, limps becoming sloppier and words sloshing in his mouth. Blood dribbles from the hand clutching his wound in deep streams of red, dying the rotting wood beneath. 

 

The second Akihito’s eyes flicker to his hand the man lunges, knocking Akihito back with a force so great it drives the air out of his lungs. His head smacks against the wood but the pain doesn’t register straight away. A weight presses down on his torso and the man above him snakes his hands around Akihito’s throat in a vice grip. 

 

There is no hesitation in his eyes, only pure hatred, and the pressure that constricts his throat is testament to that. Akihito flails, hand suddenly empty with the knife knocked out and flung away from him.

 

He has to think, has to gather something, has to  _ survive this _ , he’s too young to die like this-- 

 

Brutality consumes him, and without a second thought Akihito digs his fingers into the man’s wound with curled fingers and  _ yanks _ . He howls, coughing up blood all over Akihito’s face, and lets go completely to scream into the air with a ferocity of a dying wolf. Akihito flings him off, crawling towards the gleaming knife a metre away and takes it into his hands. 

 

He turns back, heaving, watching the man twitch on the ground and before going motionless. Blood pools around him, slowly diluting by the water dripping through the cracks in the ceiling. 

 

It finally occurs to Akihito what he’s done, and the weight of it all brings him to his knees. He stares listlessly at the body in front of him, feeling the warmth of the blood run down his neck and under his shirt and the thought strikes him -- he just killed a man. 

  
  
  
  
  


A sharp scream catches Asami’s attention immediately. He focuses back on the carriage, and runs towards it only to find it empty. 

 

A sharp and unexpected concern slashes through his chest and Asami’s mind skews to a single name. 

 

_ Akihito! _

 

It shocks him, renders him completely innate. He doesn’t know where it came from or what it wants from him, this urge to protect and secure and  _ keep him safe, keep him safe, keep him safe-- _

 

He bolts through the mud, boots dirtying and rain falling into his eyes and the horses neigh wildly around him. Everything is a blur of rainfall, thunder and the stench of blood, and in the haziness he hears clashes of swords and the telltale sound of bodies falling. But he doesn’t know who has fallen, or where they are, or what has been done to them, and the possibilities absolutely wreck him. 

 

Asami ducks and slashes a bandit across the stomach, revealing his guts and lets the man die on the ground. He kicks and cuts his way through, sees his guards in the corner of his vision do the same. But Akihito is nowhere to be seen, like a phantom hidden by the curtain of rain. 

 

_ Akihito!  _ He thinks again, raw and teeth bare.  _ Akihito!  _

 

A tug in his stomach, a sudden revelation makes him whip his head towards a delipidated horse stable on the verge of collapsing. Like war instincts, it’s unexplainable, but that doesn’t matter now: all that matters is-- 

 

“ _ Asami!”  _

 

Asami turns, eyes narrowing and dilating, heaving in relief when Akihito’s familiar head pokes from behind the rain. His hair is plastered against his frightened face, eyes wide and desperate. There is blood on his hands and neck, and panic rips through Asami. 

 

He runs and ducks into the horse stable, taking in the scenery. Akihito is crouched on the ground, metres from a corpse. None of it makes sense, but nothing matters in this moment. Nothing but Akihito. 

 

He takes Akihito wrist and pulls him close, nestles him into his arms with shocking sincerity. Akihito holds him back, shaking and clutching on with fingers like hooks. 

 

“Are you hurt? Who’s blood is that?” Asami pulls back and takes his husband’s face in his hands, asks loudly over the sound of rain. 

 

Akihito shakes his head frantically and gulps, showing Asami his bloodied palms. 

 

“There was a boy and-and I had to get him but this  _ man,  _ he came and tried to kill me so, so I--” Akihito trembles and gasps, eyes lost and unfocused as if consumed by the memory all over again. “I killed him instead.” 

 

His entire body is shaking hysterically and Asami pulls him close, pressing their soaks bodies together in an effort to comfort. But nothing can make this right, can correct what has happened. 

 

This is all Asami’s fault. He hadn’t been prepared enough. 

 

“It’s alright, it isn’t your fault,” Asami regards him and smooths hair away from Akihito’s face, cradling his face so gently even if they’re both covered in blood. “It isn’t your fault, it isn’t your fault.” 

 

They hold onto one another, surrounded by hail and thunder, and by the side of the road, the head of a statue watches them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, the first semester of the year happened and my head semi exploded but it's back in one piece now. i went to japan for two weeks after for a little holiday and it was amazing!!  
> the plot is slowly progressing and the chapters i'm most excited to write (and are being written at the moment) are coming up and i can't wait to share them.  
> 2nd semester has started, and i'm doing less subjects and that gives me a lot more time so hopefully i can spend that writing!!! honestly, i'm constantly worried that the chapters aren't good enough but i realised this story was created for fun and i write for fun so who the hell cares!!!!  
> we're just all in this for fun, bc we NEED IT  
> thank you for reading, and kudos and comments will always be immensely appreciated!!! (i'm so bad at replying i'm sorry i'll try to reply to every single one from now on i promise).


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